


Shadow of Angmar

by MousyCh



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MousyCh/pseuds/MousyCh
Summary: This is a story about how the choices we take dictate our paths in life. If those choices have led to happiness then we can bath in light but if it led to despair and pain, we need to accept the retribution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins some time at the beginning of the third age when Legolas was maybe 50 years old and then it will have these huge fast forwards because I won't be writing what they do every single day. I'll try not to lag the plot and keep Tolkien's characters as authentic as possible.

There is a moment in the life of any individual, of any nation or race, in which he can see every moment he had lived passing in front of his eyes. This usually happens when we feel so vulnerable that we think we will die. But when this really happens, the moment you close your eyes forever, what happens afterward is unique.

Cold and still there was fire all around. Full silence and yet, if you were careful, you could hear the sound of whispers. It was dark and still you could see everything. It was in an empty space, so large and big that it was impossible to figure out where it started and where it ended. The ground was damp, or at least where she stood. She could barely move or talk, she felt as though her whole body was paralyzed, but she was aware that it was not a dream, yet not a reality either. She was thirsty, hungry, she had so much to say, and she would have liked to tell it all to someone, yet at the same time she felt that if she spoke, then it all really happened. That hurt the most. But she did not regret, nothing worth regretting in life, and if she were to return in time, she would have done exactly the same mistakes and would have confided in the same people.

"You have come so far, but you cannot go all the way. I have decided that it is best for you to accept your punishment back to Arda. Life is not over yet, at least not for you, not for now." a man said, his tone soft at the beginning yet audibly growing authoritarian. 

"It will not change anything. Old habits die hard." She said with a trembling voice.

"I have other plans for you." the man said in a loud voice, looking upon her state.

"The decision will always be with me." she added, chuckling under her breath.

He did not respond but instead he bent on his knees in front of her. He placed his hands over her eyes and she screamed, feeling like millions of needles were being pierced in her head. Returning to life hurt much more than dying.

* * *

A man was running from tree to tree, searching frantically for something although his face wouldn't hint he was in any type of stress. But he was tense and held his bow tightly in his hand, ready to pull it into action if the case arose. It wasn't exactly his line of work to go around without a clear aim. Now, he did have one at the moment but not one that he was accustomed with. He was an archer not a babysitter and although he loved the prince, he would have preferred to do something of more benefit to the kingdom. His king trusted (or maybe punished) him with the safety of his son for the whole afternoon and yet he lost him. 

"I can't believe this is happening," he mumbled to himself growing more alarmed as he realized he was getting closer to the borders. 

On the other hand, prince Legolas seemed to be greatly amused by his new guard. It was always the same: have a majority of elleths in his palm while inside the palace and have warriors, usually archers, babysit him when out and about. 

"If only they'd be able to keep up..." Legolas said bemused by how easy he could escape, every single time. 

He knew where he was, he didn't want to stray far from home so he mostly followed the elven path so he wouldn't get completely lost. 

"Why do they act like I'm still a child, I'll be of age very soon..." complained the silver haired elf. 

If his looks were fare as a teenager's after puberty, which would be around 17 or 18 years in a human's cycle, Legolas was actually 50 years old and still hoping to get taller. He was the prince and he loved his position but it felt like there was no genuine hard work -or no, it was hard work from him but the answer was not the one expected. He knew he wasn't good at everything but very few would tell him up front that he was bad at this or that. 

Ending up taking a stroll instead of hiding, he ventured to the end of the path. He looked around before the trees started to hum to each other. Legolas listened, knowing nature was always responsive to elves. Following their lead, he went from tree to tree until he came upon a body lying on the grass.  

"Hullo! Are you alright?”

His grey eyes widened when he saw her chest was not rising and she seemed to be dead. Curiosity took over him as he scooped closer and took a long look at the woman. First of all, she was covered in dirt and blood, some not hers from the color of it and it seemed like she had been out there for a while before he found her. There were signs that rain and strong wind had passed and yet not one creature approached her.  Another detail that surprised the young elf was how even with her eyes closed, she looked like she was in terrible pain. His eyes moved downwards to her clothing which was odd to his eyes: she had dark tights under what looked like a man’s tunic that came down to her knees. It looked like it had been modified here and there and wrapped tightly around her waist was a leather belt where she had a sword once but now it was empty. The tunic was worn out and there were many holes with blood gushing out from wounds that he couldn’t see.  Going further down, he noticed the worst wound made by an arrow that was still very much stuck in her side.

Oddly enough, there was something on her wrist, laid on the grass close to him. It was nothing familiar and yet he could understand it was not good. Drawn by the rune, the elf bent forward, immersed into the mystery behind it. At that moment, her hand jolted, scaring him to death.

“Prince Legolas!”

The boy looked up at the archer before he glanced back at the woman. He waited for him to approach enough to notice her too.  The head of the guards, an imposing elf with broad shoulders and a stiff face ran to his prince, worry in his blue eyes even though his face was blank.

“You have to stop running, my prince. I could not find you for several hours and was deeply worried for your safety.”

“Dorondir, this woman is deadly wounded.” Legolas said, not at all listening to his guard.

Dorondir looked at the woman lain on the ground thoughtfully but no matter how hard he tried, there was no sign that she was alive.

“We have to help her. She’s fallen in our land.” Legolas added, hoping that enough will make him take action.

The guard sighed but couldn’t really deny his prince’s wish.

“Very well. But it may be too late."

"I saw her flinch. Her hand almost hit me!" Legolas explained watching Dorondir scoop her in his arms as if she was a sack.

"It could have been just a muscle contraction." Dorondir said not content at all with how his day turned up.

"Be careful, she'll feel if you mistreat her. As the prince, I need to take care of any fallen into my land." 

Dorondir did not reply and not because Legolas held power over him but because the elfling was incredibly stubborn.

On the way back to the Halls, Legolas kept watch over the woman, just in case she’d wake up and he could prove he did not imagine her move. But nothing really happened and Dorondir believed more than before that he was carrying a corpse.

* * *

“What do you mean my son brought in a stranger?”

The Elvenking was on his throne, thinking about his trades with the people of Esgaroth and how it seemed like there was a need of more supplies for the banquet in his son’s name. After all, he was finally coming of age and a big celebration was in order.

“My king, we are afraid that the woman brought in has already died. She was struck by a poisoned arrow.”

“Goblins? Orcs?” the king asked, far more troubled by the creatures that hurt her rather than the victim. “Have they come so far from their wretched hole under the mountains?”

“We haven’t encountered any in our patrol. She might have walked several miles before she collapsed on the path.” Dorondir explained, now worried that he might have to patrol double since this woman walked into the land with nobody having any idea from where or how. “We’ll strengthen the borders and have guards at every important position.”

Thranduil didn’t sketch a single movement but it was obvious he was annoyed with the news.

"Where did you place this corpse?" Thranduil asked thinking how he did not want it to ruin the festivities with her rotten smell.

"My lord, the prince insisted she should be tended in Gweluven's healing rooms. She is there right now." 

* * *

Once the healer was called upon, they literally had to force the prince out.

Seeing no sign that she was breathing, the elves of the woods did what was in their power to tend to her wounds. Several times they checked to see if they could find any sign that she was alive, just as Legolas implied, but nothing happened for hours. It was already dawn when they left for other important stuff.

Behind closed doors and in complete silence, under no lights because the room had no windows, her eyes opened wide and she took a long and loud breath in. The woman rose in a sitting position and breathed heavily, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around but could not recognize the room. Heavy steps were coming towards the door, she could hear a lot of murmurs outside as well before the door opened and in came an elf. It took a moment for him to enlighten the room and realize that his dead patient was now looking at him in a standing position. 

“Oh my! You’re awake! Lord Gweluven, come quickly!” he exclaimed, sticking his head out the door before more feet approached.  Two more elves entered, a woman with brown hair and brown eyes dressed in a long blue robe and a man so tall that it took the patient aback, especially because he had silver hair which she hadn’t seen in a long time. 

The elf with silver hair was just as surprised. He hurried to her side and gaped at the color in her cheeks.

“I’m sorry but we believed you dead.” He apologized although he seemed very pleased to see her awake. “The prince will be indeed happy. It seems he was correct.” 

Seeing her now, she looked a lot more like an elf. Her dark red hair was an amazing contrast to her green eyes; it looked just like the way the sun glazes over the forest at twilight.

“Where am I?” she asked in a hoarse voice. It felt like she did nothing but scream before she woke up.

“This is Greenwood the Great. You’re in the Halls of King Thranduil. The prince found you stabbed by a poisoned arrow.” The brown haired elleth explained, all the time staring into her eyes.

The patient looked down at her hands before she looked at the healers. They were all watching her patiently, waiting for something or another. Taking her time adjusting to her new surroundings, she took care to memorize their faces: the elleth was short yet very elegant, with a long swan neck and eyes the color of chocolate; next was the elf that entered first who seemed to be in constant awestruck, his short dark hair spiked up in a very humanly style; and there was the healer in charge. He was tall and clean and smelled nice. Standing next to him made her feel safe. 

“Is there something wrong?” the spiky one asked once he saw her eyes sparkling. 

“It is odd indeed. I cannot remember, no matter how much I try, just what was that happened to me.” She answered looking confused at the elves.

“A poisoned arrow means you met goblins or orcs. Maybe you were traveling when you met them. It is a miracle you are alive. You lied out there for a few days before you were brought in.” he answered taking a step closer.

The woman took a peek at her wound but found that bandages hid nothing. Her side looked as if nothing happened, confusing even the healers. The silver haired healer looked up at her and noticed how dirty she really was. It was hard to figure how she looked exactly with so much blood and dirt on her face and in her hair.

“You should bathe and dress in clean clothes. Miluinir will bring you one shortly.” As he said that the spiky haired elf left the room.

Waiting took very little because the elf had run and came back with a simple green dress, one that matched her eyes. Taking the piece of clothing from him, she couldn’t help but look into his grey eyes and ask.

“What is this place?”

“Gweluven will answer all your questions.” Miluinir said with a smile before he turned to the elleth and both retreated out of the room, leaving the two by themselves.

The healer smiled softly, making him look so much older than before. He obviously did not have the constitution of a warrior –he was too slender and soft- but that was especially why she felt so comfortable with him.

“Gweluven is my name, my lady. I am the eldest healer in Greenwood. And what is your name if I may ask?”

It took a moment and to be sincere, she couldn’t remember her name yet it was there, on the tip of her tongue. Gweluven understood she could barely walk so maybe it was not surprising that she couldn’t remember who she was and where she came from.

“My name,” she mumbled to herself, confused. “I know it but there is so much noise…” She knew it and yet her mind was a mess. She flinched as the many voices inside her head started to talk at once but when that was over, her eyes rose to his. “Mistril,” she said.

“Do you remember anything else?” Gweluven asked watching her carefully.

“No, not now. It’s silent,” She admitted finding no reason to lie to this person.

Gweluven nodded and decided that was a good start. It seemed if she had more time to reflect there were details about herself that could unconsciously come around. He smiled kindly and led her to a room made of stone and in the center of it was a basin where a small waterfall was pouring from somewhere very high. The water was not cold but not hot either and the healer also gave her something in a bottle that smelled of roses.

He left swiftly afterwards. Mistril undressed and got in the basin, a smile widening on her face at the clean touch of the water. She spent a few minutes just relaxing before she actually started to clean herself. Her skin was fair as if the years haven’t touched her one bit. While she was cleaning her hair, her eyes were closed so she couldn’t notice how something else was coming off except dirt.

Once she was done she dressed and spun around, amusing herself to the feeling of it. Turning towards the basin, she looked at her reflection and frowned. She touched her cheek with one hand and her hair with the other. Her dark red hair was now an orange color. Without thinking, she reached for her leather belt and grabbed a small knife out of it. She cut her long locks until the tip of her hair could barely touch her collarbone.   

“I see you are ready.” Gweluven said from the archway towards the halls. He couldn’t help but gasp at how she looked now compared to just a few minutes ago. “The king wants to see you.”

It felt like Mistril was being led to her death sentence because every elf that had the opportunity was staring at her. She only had to meet the king, bow and explain what she could but the attention she was receiving, although it was from afar, it was unnerving.

“My king,” Gweluven announced their arrival, walking up on a platform high above where there was nothing but columns and a throne that seemed to have sight over the halls. King Thranduil was sitting on his throne, one leg over the other and his cold blue eyes seemed to watch her every move.

“And who might you be?” he asked.

“Mistril, my lord,” she answered, knowing she had to act in proper manner in order not to return to the wilderness.

“And why were you found in my land, wounded by goblins nonetheless?” he continued, his tone polite yet there was a tinge of animosity.  

“I’m not sure myself. I can’t seem to remember anything but my name.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened for a moment before they fell into a glare.

“You tell me you cannot recall anything from before you woke up here? Especially your fight with those foul creatures?” she nodded which made him angrier, “And why would I believe you?”

“I do not mean any harm. I’m just-“she stopped when she realized whatever she was about to say was not going to change the king’s perspective.

It took the Elvenking a few more minutes to be sure she was not a threat. Thranduil trotted down the path from his throne and circled her staring at her with interest and suspicion. Her eyes were like stone, he could not understand what she was thinking about. She was so guarded that it brought more questions to the king.

“How did I get here?” she asked curiously.

“My son took pity on you and brought you here.” The king answered, not once faltering from his suspicion.

“And where is he now? I’d like to express my gratitude to him.”

“You will meet soon enough. Until then, you will be shown to your room and you will have a guard at your side at all times. I trust Gweluven will make all the needed arrangements.”

It was quite clear he was incredibly paranoid and overprotective so Mistril nodded and kept her opinions to herself. Gweluven bowed to his king and with a subtle touch of her elbow, they retreated down the stairs, leaving a thoughtful elf behind.

“What is the name of the prince?” Mistril asked when she was sure they walked a good while from the ears of the king.

“Legolas.” The healer responded with a soft smile. “The young prince will be of age soon. There will be a banquet tomorrow night in his name. There are songs written about him and his adventures in the woods. He seems to love nature and the feeling is mutual.”

“I wish I could remember how that felt,” she started, making the healer turn to her with a confused expression, “I feel like nature doesn’t like me much. I was out there for a few days as you said. It rained and who knows what else passed over my unconscious body.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t be here.”

It wasn’t long before Mistril met the prince. He was very excited to see her walk and breathe and he was waiting in the room she woke up in. His eyes widened at the sight of her figure and joy flew from the depth of his heart.

“I knew you were alive!” he said.

Mistril smiled widely, her eyes sparkling with joy at the sight of this young elf. He was quite tall compared to what she imagined but she could see it in his eyes, he was still so pure, so young.

“I’ll always be in your debt, prince Legolas.” She said as she bowed to him, “Thank you for saving my life.”

Legolas blushed faintly, not ready to see her so lively now that she was awake. She looked so sour before and now it seemed like a new elf completely.

“My name is Mistril,” she introduced herself, knowing the prince must have been curious about it. His eyes were very clear and she saw many more questions zoom through them and yet he wasn’t in any hurry.

“Will you be staying with us for a while? I’d be more than pleased to have you at the banquet tomorrow.”

“I’d love to but will that be alright?” she asked turning to Gweluven. He raised an eyebrow, surprised that she asked him for his approval.

“Of course it will! It’s my birthday after all! I decide who comes,” Legolas answered sassily.

“That isn’t exactly how it goes but you do have a word in the guest list.” Gweluven interfered since the teenager was growing a bit commanding. “I’m afraid Mistril needs more rest if she wants to attend the banquet tomorrow.”

“Sure, sure. See you around, Mistril!” Legolas said with a wide smile as he waved the two goodbyes. Mistril waved right back, confused how someone could be so bright both in personality and in spirits.

Gweluven led Mistril to her room, one that couldn’t have been deeper into the kingdom even if they tried. Her keen eyes noticed that if she were to move more towards the left side, she’d probably be going down to the cellars; she could feel cold air brush her hand from that side. But Gweluven led her to the right, where a room was prepared for the guest.

“We arranged this room because you will need a healer to watch over you as your condition evolves. Miluinir will check on you every day since we would like to keep you alive for as long as the Valar wants.” Gweluven explained seeing her measuring how far she was from the rest.

Mistril frowned at the mention of the Valar but she also frowned at how the healer could read her expressions so easily.

“I will have someone bring you a second dress and maybe you will find her presence more comfortable than mine.”

“I find your presence soothing,” she said quickly, not wanting the healer to get the wrong impression. Gweluven smiled softly and nodded before he left Mistril get used to her room.

The room proved to be more than Mistril expected. She might have lived through worst because the simple sight of a clean bed and a window were more than enough. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she saw a dresser as tall as her and a mirror in the corner next to the window. Growing curious of the sight beyond the four walls, she rose and approached the window. Mistril smiled at the view over the forest. It was not the greatest and it was not towards the way she came from but it made her happy.  
  
“My lady,” a soft voice came from the doorway.  
  
Mistril turned her head, her short orange hair uncovering her green eyes as she looked upon the elf.  
  
“Your robes,” The newcomer said as she walked in and placed them carefully on the bed.  
  
“What’s your name if I may?” asked Mistril walking to the elf with curiosity. She wanted to know more about the wood elves and their kingdom.  
  
“Edenith. I am a musician at the court.” She explained, her soft voice making Mistril wonder if she wasn’t maybe a bit wary.  
  
“I’m Mistril.”  
  
“I know. Everybody does, we saw you when you were brought in and then sent to meet the king. Do not worry, we don’t believe you are here with vile intentions but most of us are curious.” Edenith explained blushing when Mistril came right in front of her.

The truth was that Mistril was imposing from both afar and near. Edenith was a short and fragile elleth, with elegance and construction of a person whose life revolved around the court. Compared to her, Mistril was rough around the edges, maybe as tall as Gweluven and even in a dress anyone could see her body was bulkier than a musician’s. It was clear for Edenith that the elf in front of her was not one to play songs and write poems but one to run and fight.

“I’m not here to bring anything. I’m not even sure how I got into the forest.” Mistril started, placing a warm hand on Edenith’s shoulder. The musician froze at the contact and not because it was a strong grasp but because her grey eyes noticed the rune on Mistril’s wrist.

“I believe it’s time I take my leave. I will come back again later or if you will be too tired, tomorrow morning.” Edenith said and excused herself swiftly, almost running out of the room.  
  
Mistril watched the elf hurry out with eerie. Something about her seemed to make the others wary and she did not enjoy it. Elves were supposed to help each other and probably that was the main reason King Thranduil didn’t kick her out yet.

* * *

Those thoughts played with her mind for the whole night. Once she fell asleep, she had dreams that were so messy she couldn’t extract much from them. And there were other images, snippets of darkness she had not wanted to see. There were orcs, many of them, and there was a fire. She could hear people shouting in pain and fear while running from the enemy. She turned her head and in that mess she saw an elfling with long red hair and bright blue eyes. They looked at each other, the young one looking scared yet content. And then a sword came through her chest, killing her instantly. Mistril couldn't do anything but cry out.  
  
"No! No you can't! No!"  
  
"Lady Mistril, please wake up. It's just a dream!" She heard Gweluven's voice and opened her eyes. "It was a nightmare."  
  
"No, it was real. It was real." She said, looking at the healer with worry in her eyes. "I witnessed it, must had because it pierced my soul."  
  
Gweluven sighed and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She was so helpless at that point that she grabbed his arm and held it tightly. Gweluven only watched and let her do whatever she wanted.  
  
"Can you tell me what the dream was about?" He asked, knowing from her eyes that she will tell him.  
  
"An elfling was killed and I just stood there watching. It was war."  
  
"War? Do you mean against the darkness of Mordor?" Gweluven asked growing curious if she was even around that battle.  
  
"Mordor?" She whispered, the name sending chills up her arms. 

“You don’t know about it?” Gweluven asked seeing how it definitely affected her in some way. “Can you remember that name and its meaning?”

Mistril flinched as the voices started to mess with her head, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t hear anything else. Gweluven placed a comforting hand on her back and waited but she did not utter another word.

* * *

"She had witnessed war? What makes you think that?" asked the king at the briefing in the morning in his study. He wanted to know everything his guest said or did.  
  
"I believe she saw someone dear be killed in a battle. When I mentioned Mordor, she seemed to have an idea of what happened but she didn’t talk about it." Gweluven added with a frown. "And my lord, she sleeps with her eyes closed."  
  
King Thranduil was surprised, which was not an emotion he felt often. He was also suspicious what Mistril has done up to this point and who she met in her travels. He did not want any trouble in his kingdom just because an elf stumbled in.  
  
"What else?" He ordered.  
  
"Nothing. She will probably have more nightmares and our image of her past will come in sight." The healer said before he looked towards the path to her room. "Maybe you should give her something to do, my king. She is healthy and we can use her services as a token of thankfulness." 

* * *

"Work?" Mistril asked once Gweluven asked for her in his office. "I am not sure what I am good at."  
  
"What about music?"  
  
Edenith gave Mistril a harp but the sound was noise not music. They tried several more instruments but it was so bad, although Mistril did enjoy making the others run or screech at the sound.

“Alright, maybe music is a bit of a stretch for someone who obviously has rough hands. What about healing? I can teach you some things that will also help in the future.” Miluinir said as they made their way to the healing rooms.

But Mistril knew just the basics and nothing more could be done. Every time there was a patient with a broken bone or just light wounds made while working, her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

And there were many more things they tried but Mistril was not good at housework or politics. She almost set Faervel’s documents on fire, a first meeting with the head of the army that she did not want to repeat.  
  
"I'm bad at everything." She moaned falling on her back.  
  
Legolas caught sight of her a bit after she started searching for her talent and he couldn't lie; she was really bad at everything.

"Come to my arching lesson and maybe you'll learn how to handle a bow and arrow. Who knows, maybe you have a keen eye!" Legolas encouraged her. "Come on! I'm sure Tudor will be pleased to meet you! Besides, how bad can you be at throwing some arrows into trees and training dolls? Nobody will get hurt.” he hoped so.

In the end, Legolas had to pull Mistril up and half drag her to the woods. Now, she was outside and the fresh air was clearing her head of trouble. Having so many voices sing in perfect harmony, Mistril closed her eyes and let herself dance along. She didn't see or expect the flying arrow coming her way but she heard it from the moment it was pulled out. Mistril caught it with ease before she opened her eyes and met an elf slightly smaller than her but with eyes that were staring into her soul.

"Very well newcomer. Quick reflexes save lives." Tudor explained seemingly pleased by her luck.

"Mistril, this is Tudor. He is an archer and fought in many battles with my father."

"Not that many..." he mumbled, scratching his ear. "But I do know one or two things. So you are the elleth that angered Faervel? I heard he needed to go out into the forest for a few hours in order to calm down. Those were important documents." The archer added bemusedly.

“Yes, that’s me.” she replied visibly uncomfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone sees something wrong, feel free to inform me. I'm not very good at writing in Tolkien-ish style either. Sometime it may sound a lot more different, depending on how inspired I felt at that point.

"One important aspect of archery is patience. You cannot rush it, not when you are a beginner at least. You also need to listen. The wind will tell you everything you need to know." Tudor explained, lining both Legolas and Mistril in front. "Prince Legolas already has his own bow and quiver so I'll let you use my spares."

Mistril nodded thankfully and took the equipment from her teacher. Tudor was a warm and gentle elf, not exactly one she would imagine to fight in battles. Thinking about that again, she felt her forehead ache but it passed quickly.

"Now, take an arrow and place it on the bow. Look at the target in front of you and try to keep your hands steady. If you twitch, the arrow will not hit its intended target." Tudor explained, watching Mistril carefully. Legolas was already used to the lessons and was growing comfortable with the bow in hand. "Shoot!" He said suddenly.

Legolas hit forward and so did Mistril but hers missed the target altogether. Her deep green eyes narrowed at the feeling not at the way she missed but Legolas believed otherwise.

"You'll get better if you try. We can practice together." The prince said boldly. Mistril raised an eyebrow as Tudor started to chuckle to himself.

They fired all the arrows in the quiver and then exchanged so they could fire again. Legolas was getting better with every shot while Mistril's hands started to tremble at some point and miss the hit before shooting. Seeing how they spent half a day like that, Tudor chose to stop.

"Great work, prince Legolas. Lady Mistril, you did well for your first time." Tudor said, taking the quivers from his students. "And I mean it. Not many beginners get to hit the target from the first shoot. If you practice more you won't get tired as fast."

"Thank you but if I continue practicing I'm afraid that King Thranduil will start suspecting my motives." She explained genuinely worried she'll get shunned.

"Not if I ask him for you to be my practice partner. Then he will have no choice but to sacrifice you, in case I miss my target."

Legolas spoke so innocently that it was impressive he could be so sly. Tudor didn't seem surprised but he nodded along, trusting the influence the elfling had on his father.

"Then, what else is it that you practice except archery? Swordsmanship?" she asked feeling excited for some reason.

"Yes but not tonight. Prince Legolas has to get ready for his coming of age." Tudor interfered. "I have to go now but I suppose I will see you at the banquet." He said before he waved and left.

"You don't have to call me prince. You are not a wooden elf so it feels odd." Legolas started on their way back.

"Won't your father overreact at my impoliteness?" She asked, being polite when talking about the king.

"You don't need to worry. He isn't your king."

"But he can throw me out and I do not wish to find myself on the brink of death once more." She explained, glancing at the elfling. Legolas was not a small and fragile elf he was actually tall and could definitely handle himself even in front of the king. But he was still young and protected. 

"I saved you, not my father. I decide when you leave." Legolas said with a tinge of the same coldness as Thranduil. She looked at him fondly and ruffled his blond hair. "Hey! I'm not a child!" He moaned narrowing his eyes at her.

"I apologize, _Legolas_." She answered making him smile although he was still throwing her nasty looks. "Well then, I'll drop you off at your rooms and I'll go back to my own after a quick visit to the healer." She announced.

Once that was done, she did remember where to meet Gweluven. His office was close to the stone stage where she met Thranduil and his unique throne. But Mistril had to give the woodland king some merit, his kingdom was filled with elegance and a strong connection to the forest. They held so much adoration and respect for every living thing in the world...something she didn't feel drawn to.

The one to open the door and welcome Mistril was Miluinir. The young ellon smiled brightly at her and urged her inside.

"How do you feel?" He asked once she sat down. The brown haired elleth was there too, mixing some herbs for other patients. 

"Will you go to the banquet? I'm sure Hinnorbes can get you a dress for it. She has _many_." Miluinir said glancing at the woman, emphasizing what became her hobby.

Hinnorbes rolled her eyes and ignored him as she approached Mistril with a phial.

"For nerves. You will need it if Miluinir will have to follow you around." She said throwing the young elf the same look he did just a few minutes ago. 

Mistril laughed as the two started to bicker. Watching them made her feel happy and gave her a sense of friendship that she missed. Miluinir was childish and fun while Hinnorbes was serious and motherly and there was Gweluven, whose sudden entrance put a stop to the two healers.

"I was wondering why there is so much noise coming from here. Your voices echo down the hall." He said with a smirk, scolding the two. Then his eyes fell on his patient and the slight mischievous glint in his eye faded. "How are you Mistril?" 

Looking up into his eyes, Mistril found herself pondering on his question. She was alive and well and her memory did not improve nor did her talents.

"I met Faervel early today. It wasn't pleasant." she answered feeling a shiver down her spine at the memory.

Gweluven watched her in silence but Miluinir's reaction was a lot louder. Hinnorbes hit him several times but it looked like he could implode if he wouldn't express his amusement.

"Does your side hurt anymore?" Gweluven asked as soon as he saw her shift.

"No. I feel good. I-" she stopped and glanced at Hinnorbes for a moment before she looked back at Gweluven. "I don't know if I should go to the banquet. I feel like everybody will look at me the same way Edenith did."

"Edenith?" The healer asked curiously. "How did she look at you?"

"I don't mean to judge her since I am a stranger and I was brought in here under certain circumstances but she might have been a bit too...wary." 

"What do you mean?" He asked not suspicious but intrigued. 

Mistril needed a moment to arrange her response. Thinking how Edenith hurried out of her room, another flash passed through her eyes. She was cornered and chained in a cell. Someone was bantering outside, violence ringing through the dark place. Then she felt immense pain and she fell on her knees.

"Mistril!" Gweluven did not expect her to react so strongly. He reached out to touch her but she stopped him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine." She repeated that like a mantra until she calmed down. She looked up at the healer with a glint of darkness but it faded quickly.

Maybe the difference wasn't felt but Gweluven saw her eyes becoming grey for a moment before returning to their natural color. But he chose not to tell her, not yet. That, of course, did not mean the rest haven't noticed. Once Mistril left, Miluinir and Hinnorbes approached their teacher with worry in their eyes.

"Will she be alright?" Miluinir asked. 

"I gave her a concoction of Roman Chamomile and Heimia Salicifolia to relax her mind. It might be enough for her to remember more." Hinnorbes added, suddenly having a bad feeling about how vivid Mistril will dream at night.

* * *

"I look strange."

Mistril was staring at her reflection with doubt. She hadn't dressed in such feminine clothes before, she could feel it. The robe she wore was long and vapory but the sleeves were long and tight. The material around her collarbone intertwined silk with lace and granted to an elleth her hair was braided in the front like she had a crown.

"You look beautiful." Miluinir said from his spot at the door. He was supposed to be her partner for the night and help her get acquainted with the rest of the guests. 

"I feel odd, though. It's hard to move in this and even harder to fight in it." She explained still spinning all ways.

"It's a night of joy and honor. I assure you there won't be any fights; only dancing and drinking." Miluinir replied not bothering to contain his excitement.

Walking to the halls of the banquet, she started to feel less and less confident. Her shoes were white and the dress was a pale blue color. Her eyes were wandering over every elf and elleth and couldn't help but smile at the sight. They were having fun, they were at peace with each other and they seemed busy with their own discussions.

As soon as she entered the hall, she saw the long wooden table where important elves were drinking and eating. Gweluven was there, talking with an elf that did not look like he was part of the wooden realm either. At the head of the table was Thranduil. It was hard to say for sure if he was content because his lips were set in a straight line.

"Mistril!" Legolas saw her as soon as she stepped in, "I'm glad you actually came. I was afraid you'd want to avoid Faervel and lock yourself in your room." The prince added narrowing his eyes at her in a teasing manner.

Miluinir chuckled under his hand but did keep an eye on her after her recent episode. But Mistril seemed to be lenient and enjoy Legolas' sense of humour.

Not many elves paid attention to them but Mistril 's eyes traveled around the wide space and noticed both familiar faces -which were very limited- and many others that she was not so sure she wanted to meet. It was quite clear everyone inside the hall was of some kind of importance for the kingdom: there were healers, soldiers, politicians and so on. 

Legolas grabbed her arm and pulled her where other elves were dancing. He kept her so focused on that that she completely forgot what the banquet was about. Legolas was smiling joyfully and she found herself following him wherever he led her, losing Miluinir on the way. She danced with more people once she loosened up and many more danced around her.

Thranduil was watching closely, his hand hiding the ghost of a smile. Mistril was not a wooden elf and she was very bad at everything his wife exceeded. But somehow she reminded him of his mother and the elleths he knew before he followed his father to Greenwood.

Mistril's laughter made Thranduil remember his youthful years. The celebrations at Oropher's court were filled with good food and music and many more elves and elflings. It was a good time.

"My king," Gweluven's voice forced the king to open his eyes and return to the present. "I believe that lady Mistril can remember her past if we give her time but my lord, what if it isn't in her best interest to remember?"

"What do you mean?"

"She went through terrible pain a few hours ago. Her eyes, they turned grey for a moment. The pain she felt was most definitely psychological, a ghost of an older wound."

Thranduil took a peek at the woman laughing with his son. He knew everything she did earlier that day, how she failed at being a lady and turned to archery. Tudor didn't give him an exact answer when asked what her level was which let Thranduil question what exactly she could do.

"Keep her under your watch." Thranduil ordered.

* * *

Music was still filling the halls when Mistril decided she should take a break and go into the outer garden, which was one of the few open spaces. The moon was shining over the forest warmly as if it knew it was a special night. Trees were whispering to each other and wind was sending messages from one corner of the forest to the other. Most wood elves were inside the hall celebrating but some were doing the same in their own personal spaces. Song and laughter filled Greenwood and it made the elleth smile.  

"It sounds beautiful doesn’t it?"

Mistril spun around surprised somebody else followed her idea and walked out for fresh air. But she tensed when she didn't recognize the face.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you sensed my presence." The man apologized.

"No, I guess I was expecting someone else. You're a warrior." She concluded by how the elf in front of her didn't seem to enjoy parties much. "Not quite your place inside, is it?"

"Do I seem that tortured?" He asked jokingly but seeing how she was so serious he sighed. "I feel weary. We haven't had a battle in a while and even orcs have become foolish. I feel like this style of life does not suit me." He admitted easily in front of her.

"What is your name?"

"Maerdor. I used to fight alongside my king before peace settled in. I am both happy and sour and even on this special night I cannot mimic joy." He said looking up at the moon with melancholy.

"I know peace is better than war. I'm not sure what I've gone through or if I had gone through anything at all but war brings so much pain and loss and-" she stopped, the eyes of the red headed elfling coming back into her mind. Mistril tried to continue but her heart was breaking at the thought.

"Who did you lose in war?" Maerdor asked seeing how she knew too much not to have felt it.

 _No! Father! Father, we have to_ \- but everywhere she was looking, she could only see swords clashing against each other. It was gruesome. People she had known were slayed while others were trying to survive and run. Spinning around she came to see another red haired elf but visibly older than the last one. He was putting up quite a fight but he didn't see it coming, didn't even blink before a huge orc decapitated him.

Mistril looked at her hands, blood covering them and most of her clothes. She felt sick to the stomach and without any preparation, she vomited.

"Are you alright? Did you drink too much or ate too much?" Maerdor asked the elleth once he saw her crouch and throw up. It was really sudden. One moment they were talking and the next she looked to the side with a frown before she vomited.

He tried to sooth her by patting her back but the feeling of disgust was making her feel even sicker.

Maerdor helped Mistril return to her room and then left her when she asked to be alone. The warrior nodded and complied but instead of returning to the party he went to the healers quarter. 

"Maerdor, why so worried?" The healer asked calmly finding the warrior pace in front of his room.

"It's lady Mistril. We were talking in the garden and then she felt sick. I helped her to her room and hoped I would find you on my way back."

Gweluven glanced at the corridor towards the back of the kingdom where her room was. He wondered if maybe she remembered something again and if she took the concoction already.

"I'll take care of it." assured Gweluven with a gentle pat on Maerdor’s arm.

In the darkness of her room, Mistril was squirming in her own skin. She could see the two red haired elves die over and over again and the clash of weapons became so much more vivid in her ears.

Battles. She had seen battles before and they must have left a deep impression on her. Looking down at her hands, she too noticed how poignant the runes on her wrists were. Placed next to each other they seemed to match into a word. Even weirder was how she knew what it meant and it didn't seem to faze her much.

A knock drew her attention away from the words and she turned her hands so they wouldn't jump to the eye. The door opened and Gweluven entered looking at her intently.

"You seem to know every time I get sick."

"That's because we worry about you. It is not safe for an elf to go through such pain so many times in two days." He explained coming and sitting next to her.

"They're memories. I don't want to remember but they flood my mind at times."

"I know. You should drink the mixture Hinnorbes prepared and rest." Gweluven said, eyeing the woman attentively.

"I already did, hoping it would calm me for this party. It wasn't strong enough." She said, opening up in front of the healer once again. "I'm anxious that I will make a fool of myself in front of a whole kingdom, one by one."

"There is no need for you to feel anxious at all. Lean on Miluinir if you feel the need; he's by your side in order to ease your pain, no matter what form it takes." Gweluven advised her. "You looked happy dancing with the others at the banquet."

"That's- as long as they don't notice my marks, everything is fine." she muttered, finally giving away the real reason of her worries.

"Those marks on your wrists, I have seen them too. Is that what made Edenith wary of your presence?" Gweluven asked knowing she already gave an answer in the moment she mentioned them. "Do you know what they mean?" he added, curiousity getting the best of him.

Mistril thought carefully how to respond as she traced her left wrist. In truth, the marks were fain and she could hide them if she tried but Edenith caught sight of them once and she knew they existed now.

"The meaning of these..." she sighed heavily. "I was hoping you could tell me." 

"Rest," was Gweluven's answer before he left silently.

* * *

Next day Mistril woke up at the insistent knocking on her door. The reason was Legolas who was expecting her to come along to his swordsmanship training.

"I'm not as good with a sword as with a bow." He said on the way into the forest.

"You don't have to be good at everything. Concentrate on what you improve at fast." She said, having the vague idea that someone told her that before.

Surprisingly, the one teaching Legolas was Maerdor. He smiled at the sight of her healthy face and nodded in greeting.

"Good morning. Glad to see you well." The swordsman started before he turned to Legolas, his eyes getting serious. "Prince Legolas."

"He's always so formal." Legolas whispered not so silently to Mistril.

"That's because he's the prince." Maerdor teased him by doing the same. "So! Have you practiced, my lord?"

Legolas mumbled something under his breath on the line of too busy or not enough time for everything. Maerdor narrowed his eyes at him but let it slide.  

Legolas and the sword were not very friendly to each other. It was from the moment he grasped the handle when Mistril noticed it was not the same as with the bow. He wasn't in control and he didn't want to be. The sword was harder to maneuver than pulling out an arrow and shooting it.

"Why don't you like fighting with a sword?" She asked when Maerdor decided they should take a break.

"It makes me look bad." Legolas replied but had to add more for the elleth to understand. "It makes me sweaty and it looks far from elegant and noble."

Maerdor coughed in the background but Legolas didn't seem eager to change his opinion.

"I believe swords are majestic. Their glint can bring people hope." She said having a faint memory of a beautiful elfish sword sparkling in the sunlight.

"But they are troublesome to carry around and take a lot of space. I haven't seen anyone that could hide their sword from view."

"That can apply to the quiver and bow too." Maerdor interfered. "It's not the sword, my prince, but the one using it that makes a difference."

Legolas pouted and turned to Mistril for help in the argument but she seemed to side with the swordsman.

"Why don't you try, Mistril?" Legolas started, seeing how he might see something interesting. 

Mistril seemed surprised but eager. She got up and went to Maerdor, her eye searching for a sword that would suit her. Most elfish swords are light and well done but none seemed to appeal to her. In the end she chose one of medium size and felt empowered for some reason. Just holding it was sending shivers up her back, as if she held the future of the world in her hands and nobody could harm her.

"Well?" Maerdor seemed just as eager seeing how she might actually know what she was doing. 

Mistril turned to the warrior with newfound seriousness. Her eyes darkened a bit and her attitude changed. Legolas was watching closely and so was Gweluven but from another spot.

Mistril did not wait for Maerdor to attack but did so herself. Their swords clashed against each other before she spun around and kicked him behind his knee. Maerdor was surprised that she could kneel him so fast. Maybe he should take her seriously. And he did by attacking her, unleashing more strength than he originally intended. Mistril looked like she was dancing, swaying the sword as if it was a stick. She used her whole body not just her hands and she looked like she could go on forever without a sweat. Maerdor's eyes narrowed at her and he applied more force, trying to destabilize her but Mistril duck and swayed and blocked like a professional.

"You've done this before." He said when he had the chance before their swords clashed again.

"I had seen better, I’m sure of that." She replied in a smug tone. With a quick spin she wrapped her legs around him and swiftly pulled him on the ground, blocking the hand holding the sword. "I win."

Legolas clapped as he ran towards the pair with new found desire to spare. Mistril gave him her sword, feeling proud of her little victory but Gweluven did not seem happy.

* * *

"I believe she fought in battles not just witnessed them. The way she moved was not one of a novice." Gweluven informed his king as soon as possible. 

"Do you believe she is a threat?" Thranduil said coldly, seeing how it wasn't his choice in the first place but Legolas'. "My son likes her. I wouldn't like him to be in any type of danger."

"My king, her past may be dark and that darkness may still reside inside her, asleep for now. You had seen her wrists and she is aware they are not to be taken lightly. But she doesn't represent a threat and she seems to fight her own will by pushing her memories back." Gweluven continued, taking Mistril's side to his king's surprise. But the healer cared more for Legolas and the prince enjoyed spending time with the stranger.

"My lord, Gweluven," Faervel approached the two with a bow for Thranduil. "If I may, I have been informed by Maerdor that lady Mistril might like a bit of adventure. I'd like her to join the guards on their patrol." He said in his usual scornful expression. It was odd to see Faervel, the commander of the woodland army, sketch any expression but distrust and dislike.

"Let her go with Maerdor since they seem to have battled once. But have him report to me directly everything she says and does." Thranduil ordered before going down the corridor.

"Is that a good idea? What if goblins come down from the mountain once again?" Gweluven asked Faervel as they retreated.

"She is not a child, no matter how much you try to see her as one. She could be as old as me and you for all we know." The strict commander replied, going straight for his office near the library. 

* * *

Thranduil was walking to Legolas' room when he saw the subject of their late distress stand on a bench looking at her hands. Her short orange hair was hard to miss and she wasn't exactly an elf he could avoid forever. She was a guest in his kingdom and he had to be sure she wasn't a threat but she didn't seem to be aware of the rumors about her situation.

"What are you doing?" He asked approaching her. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed how she particularly took care to hide her wrists. "You will be going on patrol from tomorrow onward. Faervel will inform you in the morning and you will take every round until I choose what to do with you."

"What about swords?" She asked looking up at him.

It was the second time Thranduil saw her so close and he could see his past in her green eyes. It was like all that loss and darkness were returning to him but also the good times with his father and the time he met his wife.

 "King Thranduil, you're leaning in."

The glaze over his eyes vanished and he realized he did lean in too close to her. Their noses were almost touching and yet she didn't lean back or move her head to the side. Staring at her, he saw a quick flash of amusement cross her face and knew she was taunting him. Taking a step back, he remembered her question.

"What about swords?"

"I'd like to have one if I am to go on patrol."

She made it sound so common.

"You will get whatever Faervel gives you."

But he sounded so vague.

* * *

The next day, right before the sunrise, the guards met in front of the gate so they could go outside. Mistril was not very happy, though. She got a set of dark leggings and a green tunic. That was all and it was really little compared to the others. Also, her weapon was...

"A dagger," She stated feeling suddenly like the king was looking down upon her skills.

"Two daggers," Faervel said placing another one in her hand. "They can be deadly if you use them well." He added without an ounce of sympathy.

Mistril glanced at her hands before she looked up at Faervel. He turned his back to her and walked to his partner. Farvel was incredibly muscular and had broad shoulders compared to Maerdor for example. While the melancholic warrior had softened up in time of peace, it looked like Faervel was naturally in a state of continuous battle. Thinking more about how imposing and respectful he was, his image blurred around the corners and Mistril could swear there was someone alike yet different in his place.

"Are you ready?" asked Maerdor dragging her from her dreamy state. "We will partner up and take the northern part."

"What are we waiting for?" She asked when she realized everybody gathered already but nothing seemed to happen.

"The gates do not open unless the king decides so." Maerdor answered, arranging his tunic. He looked a bit messy compared to the last two times she had seen him but it was not even dawn yet.

"Is he even awake? He seems like a late riser." She muttered to herself grumpily but just then the doors opened and the guards walked into the forest.


	3. Chapter 3

The forest of Greenwood was silent. Mistril had gone out several times but only around the kingdom, never outside the borders. Now, they were one step in and one out and the difference was felt in how nature was acting around them. It felt like nature was watching, not interfering but just watching. A breeze moved Mistril's hair softly and she closed her eyes, listening in for any type of sound coming from fauna or flora. What she heard was a person pulling out an arrow and firing it in her direction.

"Don't lose yourself into the sight. The enemy can be anywhere," was the friendly advice that followed.

That was not Maerdor but the archer Tudor. He waved at her with a lose smile before someone walked up behind him. It was an elleth with long brown hair and brown eyes and she was dressed the same as Mistril, only her clothes fit her better. Her eyes landed on Mistril and gave a quick nod as sign of acknowledgement before she pushed Tudor forward.

"That's Hathelwen. She's an archer too."

"She seems very strict."

"She's an angel compared to Faervel." Maerdor explained listening for any sign that the subject he spoke of was near. “I only heard stories from when he used to fight for King Oropher. It is said that he continued the fight at Dagorlad even after he got severely wounded. He denied aid from healers and killed hundreds of orcs with the blade that wounded him.” Maerdor added, his eyes widening at the scale of his own words.

"What happened at Dagorlad?" she asked innocently. Maerdor stopped and stared at her with an incredulous expression. "What?" she was genuinely confused and curious.

"The war happened. It was the greatest and most horrific set of battles that Middle Earth has ever seen. There were many casualties from both sides." Maerdor explained still finding it hard that she didn't know. "I know once it ended, elves from everywhere decided not to talk about it if possible but haven't you heard any stories about it before?"

"Even if I did, I can't remember." 

Maerdor frowned before he opened his mouth and spoke words that he should have not.

"Consider yourself lucky." the tone of his voice was almost as if he was envying her condition, even though there was no need to. 

"So the advice would be to keep my mouth shut in front of Faervel?" She changed the subject and the mood along with it.

“You cannot begin to imagine what lies behind Faervel’s calm façade.”

Nothing happened afterwards and time passed incredibly slowly during the first half of the day. Mistril leaned against the tree and listened. Except the other elves moving around and whispers here and there, nothing was out of ordinary.

By the time they returned, she was hungry and felt like sparing with somebody just for the fun of moving around. Her muscles were numb and her eyes felt sore but everything else was fine and no memory surfaced for the next few weeks. It was as if she finallys ettled in this new environment and having Miluinir close to her side made her loosen up.

"Are you enjoying the life of a guard?" he asked while they were in the library on one of the days the king trusted they wouldn't set anything on fire.

"It's boring but that's better than being attacked." she said, partially hoping a battle will ensue at some point.

"What about archery? Have you gotten on Legolas' level yet?" 

"No," she replied right away, "I need 150 more years to get to that level when I can also move while holding a bow and arrow. I'm afraid I'll hit somebody if I do as much as breathe." she added, self aware of how much of a beginner she was. "My hands tremble a lot."

"I noticed. Even when we were trying to coerce you into being a healer, or a helper, your hands would start trembling worse than the patient. Does it happen when you go on patrol as well?"

"No. But sometimes Tudor finds it amusing to scare me by firing arrows at my body."

Miluinir frowned which brought a content smile on her face. He was worried for her safety and it looked genuine besides, the concoction given to her by Hinnorbes seemed to diminish the constant state of anxiety she felt and life became quite joyful.

"I'll inform her of your trembling hands and she will prepare something for that too. Hinnorbes is exceptional at chemistry."

"She looks like she woould make a wonderful mother."

"Of course she does! Her son is as tall as I am and he is only 100 years older than Legolas." Miluinir explained laughing at her shocked face. "We're the same age but I never married. I like being a wondrous elf."

"Have you ever been outside Greenwood?" Mistril asked eyeing him suspiciously. He seemed to know nothing but the forest he grew up in. 

"Yes, of course! I've been to Esgaroth!" he said proudly which made the elleth scoff. "It's enough for me! The world is wide and beautiful but it's also dangerous for an elf like me. I'm a healer not a warrior." he added, pulling his precious hands close to his chest lovingly.  

"Can you hold a sword?" she asked bemusedly which only made the healer glare at her in offence.

"Of course I did! My father is a craftsman. He works down at the store with my brothers."

"I guess you were the rebel that decided he is far too delicate for such hard work." that was a statement not a question and it sounded even worse in Miluinir's ears.

"My hands heal while theirs create and forge weapons, among other things. I prefer to save people rather than make the mean of their death." Miluinir explained, having a valid point that impressed Mistril, especially because she could see passion in his eyes.

"I wish I could remember my family. That's the only memory I want." she mumbled feeling like she just damped the mood but Miluinir wrapped an arm around her should and patted her in a friendly way. 

"You have all the time in the world. The king seems to have decided you are safe and you can live here for as long as the Valar wants." 

That would have been nice, they both thought, but the king had moods and he had advisers, Gweluven and Faervel among that very limited group.  But Miluinir succeeded in sending her off to her patrolling duties with a positive attitude, which was not fit for Maerdor, who liked her better when she was brooding.

"Maerdor, what's around Greenwood?" she suddenly asked, jumping into a tree for a better view.

"It stretches from the foothills of the Grey Mountains in the north to the North Undeep in the south, and from the east edge of the vale of Anduin to Erebor.” He replied playing with one of Mistril’s daggers.

"Where did I come from?" She asked receiving a curious glance. "What direction did I come from? Where was I found?"

"From what I heard, you most certainly came from the Misty Mountains and if I were to guess, you were probably going to Esgaroth. Goblins found you and didn't think much what to do with you." He said nonchalantly.

"Do you think that maybe I was their prisoner?"

"I don't know and I can't say. But if you knew how to fight then maybe you did escape." Maerdor said not convinced of his own words.

"I wish I could remember bits but everything is so blurry."

"What can you remember?" Maerdor asked moving closer to the tree she was in.

"War. Red haired elves dying. Fear and panic and...orcs."

"Usually orcs do come with fear and panic." Maerdor commented almost getting hit by another dagger. He raised an eyebrow surprised at how precise she threw it. "Try now and think about it. What do you see?"

Mistril closed her eyes and listened to the wind. He was soothing her with songs by flowers and leaves but there, in the very back, she could hear screams. They were horrible, very low in tone and among them there were swears spoken in many languages. If she were to try even harder, she could hear a soft voice, telling her that everything will be alright, but if she were to be sicnere, that was probably her own desire.

"Nothing much," She replied before she jumped next to him. "You said it yourself, lucky I am for not remembering the pain."

* * *

For an elf 100 years pass in the blink of an eye. Mistril got used to going on patrol every day and even helped Legolas with his training. In those 100 years the prince grew both in height and in skills. The bow became his favorite, as expected, and he started to join the guards whenever they had to go out.

Mistril learned a lot about wood elves as well. The Halls had a very complicated system and if she wasn't careful she could get lost. Although her room was so remote, she had the favor of occupying one of the few rooms in the Halls; it wasn't that remote either after she learned of the innermost cell and other places hidden in case of an attack.

After a while wood elves warmed up to her too and let her see their houses in the forest. They were spread all around either made on the trees or inside them. It was marvelous seeing such abodes and she wished she could live there too. Once Hinnorbes opened her door to the newcomer, many others followed mostly because Mistril seemed to be fit for the type of work that Miluinir strongly disliked: handy work. She could repair anything and she almost begged the king to let her work at the forgery. 

"Why would I trust you near a fire based job? Last time you almost burned down my library and did burn important documents." he said coldly, looking at her with skepticism. 

"But I talked to Miluinir's father and he said he will be watching me for the first few days." 

"Miluinir's father is under my command, Mistril. If I deny you access, he will comply." he couldn't believe she was so persistent when she was a sheep, all yes sir no sir only 100 years ago.  

"But I talked to Legolas and-"

"I am your king and I decide, not Legolas. Do not use your companionship with my son to gain favors." 

"You're not _my_ king." she hissed, regretting her words as soon as they came out but still not showing it.

"Then you may as well leave _my_ kingdom, where _my_ word is rule and your statement could send you to prison." he replied, visibly growing angry although his face was in the same scornful expression she found him in.

Mistril tried her hardest not to growl; instead, she hurried out of his sight and went out into the kingdom. She could understand why Faervel would run into the forest when he was angry because she wanted nothing else but to scream and punch something. 

* * *

It was on a particularly interesting day of patrolling the grounds south when she decided she should ask Faervel her curiosities.

“There are many rumors concerning your warrior past.” She started walking by his side.

Faervel was a tall elf, comparable with Thranduil and Gweluven. They were also the oldest wood elves to live in Greenwood and they seemed to share a type of melancholy that was not coming from circumstances but from deep within. While all three of them had very different personalities and ways to deal with their emotional wounds, it did seem like at the end of the day, these three were always spending more time alone rather than blend in with the rest.

“I heard you fought alongside the king’s father. Oropher was his name, right? He led you to this place and because he gave you a safe life, you all followed him to battle against the enemy.”

She was speaking about a tragedy with a tone that sincerely pissed him off.

“You don’t know anything and they don’t either.”

“What about the story about you slaying hundreds of pests at Dagorlad with the sword that wounded you?” she asked without the slightest worry that he will get angry.

Faervel was almost sure who told her such stories so he wasn’t surprised she finally asked. She looked like a curious person, one without a filter which was exactly the kind of people he hated. Gweluven was the one that could answer in riddles and could shift the attention off important and sensible subjects. Faervel was a bold person and it was hard lying to her so he did the opposite.

“And? What do you want me to say?”

“Dagorlad.” She said, her eyes staring at him with more than just curiosity, “I want to know about Dagorlad.”

Faervel took a long look at the woman in front of him. She stopped and waited for her superior to give her the information she wanted.

“Dagorlad is a grand, treeless, open plain between the Emyn Muil and Cirith Gorgor.” He answered.

Mistril was expecting more but Faervel didn’t give any details about the battle he fought in or its repercussions. He walked forward and continued to keep a few feet distance from her just in case she had other questions. From behind him, Mistril could see how he was different from Maerdor and Tudor; he had medium silver hair in the first place, and his eyes were icy blue. Dressed in his light armor, with his back straight and the tight atmosphere around him, Faervel felt like a frozen river.

On the other side, Gweluven was the definition of warmth yet Mistril always felt this apathy towards strangers oozing off him. Gweluven was incredibly loyal, to the point he’d lay down his life in front of Thranduil but to those outside Greenwood –elves or not- he kept a wall. ‘No sympathy for those who are not our own’ that was a way of simplifying his character.

* * *

Walking down the halls towards her room, Mistril thought about Dagorlad. She could ask Gweluven about it, or if she felt brave enough even Thranduil, but it wasn’t the same. Faervel was a warrior through and through and could give her details that could explain why she felt like she knew that place.

Someone was following her, lurking in the shadows ready to attack. When that happened she didn’t flinch but turned to look her perpetuator in the eye.

“You asked Faervel about Dagorlad?” Tudor asked, showing himself. “Are you out of your mind?” he asked although his tone was leaning more towards amusement rather than surprise.

“I can’t remember a great deal of what happened in the last years. I cannot even remember my own childhood so of course, I want to know.” She explained. “If Faervel won’t tell me then maybe I should ask king Thranduil.”

Tudor’s eyes widened, those grey eyes looking at her with amazement.

“Why not ask me or Maerdor? We fought at Dagorlad too.”

“Really?” she asked eyeing the archer suspiciously. “How old are you anyway?”

“Old enough! Just because I look young doesn’t mean I am you should know that better than anyone.” Tudor said narrowing his eye at the woman in front of him. He had noticed how she had this way of looking down at the elves that held no high ranking. Maybe he was mistaken but those green eyes were so cold and distant at times.

“Fine then. Tell me.” 

“It was horrible. I fought for King Oropher but we weren’t the only army; the Last Alliance between Men and Elves, that’s how it remained known in history. I will never forget those moments when I thought death to be the only way we would leave those grounds.” He stopped and frowned, memories coming back to him. “The Enemy was strong and patient. I was with the archers and to be sincere, we were in a safer position than the others. Our commander died in battle, as did many warriors.”

“What happened to the enemy?” she asked.

“He came out from his fortress, eventually. The Black Gate opened and this dark creature walked out, his power greater than anything we have seen before.” He shuddered, “There were many vicious creatures that followed him. They had their heads covered by black helmets but I heard their black eyes were glinting with malice.”

“You heard? Weren’t you there?”

“I wasn’t in the front lane. My main problems were orcs and men of wild nature. Maerdor was there, fighting alongside Faervel. He saw something that scared him on that last night. Faervel too.”

There was a long pause in which Mistril waited patiently for the archer to tell her details about this fearful beast. Tudor was looking ahead, remembering the sight he had watched long ago.

“What?” she asked seeing how Tudor didn’t have any intention to continue by himself.

“I don’t want to know. I prefer to think Sauron was the worst darkness could create.”

* * *

“Tudor,”

Once Mistril left for her room, the archer was called by his king.

“My lord,” He bowed and then he realized one small detail, “How long have you been here for?” Tudor asked seeing how Thranduil could have been there all the time, listening to his and Mistril’s conversation. From his expression alone it was hard to figure out.

"What did she ask you?" Thranduil asked approaching the archer as if he was floating under that long robe.

"She's curious about the war but that it is to be understood since she cannot remember it." Tudor answered, finding himself defend Mistril.

"And what did you tell her?"

Tudor caught the glint in Thranduil's eyes and realized quickly that his king was very involved into Mistril’s life.

"I told her what I saw and how it felt. It was only my point of view over a tragedy that we moved on from." Tudor replied in the same manner he would have talked to Faervel.

"How did she react?" Thranduil pestered, his face never changing and tone never letting out what was indeed in his mind.

"Normally. Was she supposed to react in a certain way?" The archer asked eyeing his king suspiciously.

But Thranduil didn't answer. He left swiftly on the same way as Mistril, his steps heavy as if he was going into a battle. Tudor sighed as he watched his king act oddly for the first time in a while. Mistril was a bundle of curiosity but her interests lied only in the subject of battle.

* * *

Mistril herself knew that for an elleth it was strange to find no interest in anything but swords and past traumatic events but she couldn’t control herself. She wanted to know all there was that made the Elvenking act so overprotective. 

But now she heard a new name. One that sent shivers up her arms and down her spine. It became a routine for her to think while looking over the forest through her window. It was dark outside but the moon was shining brightly like a source of hope.

"Sauron," she mumbled, feeling fear creep up her spine.

As she repeated that name, she felt a shadow elongate next to hers and she froze. She turned around and followed it up to someone moving in the shadows of her room. It lured her in and without a second thought she went up to him.

It was a creature she had seen before, she had talked to before and she had definitely bowed to at some point. She was scared of him but not to the extent she would have sacrificed for him. It wasn't Sauron.

"You should not disappoint me in this battle or you will return to that cave." Hissed the cloaked man, his voice once human and raspy but now it was just a screech.

She remained staring at him with a sense of gratefulness. What that was for she couldn't say but whoever he was, he offered her an opportunity and she took it.

Two knocks drew her attention and the dark form vanished.

"Yes?" She called out expecting Gweluven since he used to visit her at around the same time.

Surprisingly, Thranduil's face appeared from around the door and he entered the room as if it was his own. He didn't sit but walked to her and looked into her green eyes.

"I'd like you to stop inquiring information of an event that you did not take part in. If you have any curiosities that cannot be refrained, ask me directly. My warriors do not need to remember the past." He said as elegantly as possible.

But Mistril didn't seem impressed. She was, on the other hand, surprised that he gave her an alternative instead of shutting her out completely.

"Tudor told me about your father, former-king Oropher. When he mentioned that name, a face appeared into my mind."

"Of my father?" Thranduil asked not quite believing it.

"I could see this noble man, dressed in his armor and leading his army bravely into a suicidal mission. His hair was the color of bright white clouds, his eyes were firm yet if you were to look closer, there was worry for his people not for himself." She said looking ahead with admiration for the man in her image.

"What makes you believe that man was my father?"

"I know. I only met two men with such noblesse in my life and one of them was Oropher." She explained before she looked at him, "You do not believe a word that comes out from my mouth." She stated not necessarily waiting for him to agree. "Why are you so hostile with me? I've been living here in peace for more than 100 years and yet you still doubt my intentions. I befriended Legolas out of respect and gratitude for saving my life not because I have later intentions! Why can't you look at me and see me for what I am?!" She shouted feeling pressured by all the glances and all the whispers she had seen and heard. It was horrible to feel like an outcast among your people.

Thranduil's eye twitched as he finally lost his calm facade. He grabbed one of her arms and forced it to her eyes.

"Do you see this? This is the black language, used by no one and nothing out of Mordor. You know what it says don't you? It's a mark that binds you to them." He hissed before he pulled her closer. His eyes were full of hatred and whole face was a sneer. "How can I trust an elf that came from  **that**  place?"

"You don't know anything about me." She hissed yet she wasn't angry.

If anything, her heart pumped slightly different. She looked at his face and noticed little details that she had never seen before. It was the first time she looked at him as an elf rather than the king. He was very handsome and his skin, just like hers, was only briefly touched by time. It was also the first time she looked into his eyes. Those grey eyes made her feel like a flood of emotions was about to take her along. Those eyes have seen war at a young age and he had to take the crown when he wasn't confident enough to decide the future of his people. She could see that he had fought long to keep himself in check all the time and there were times when he suffered and felt helpless.

Being so angry, he didn't realize how much of his true self he let her see.

"You should leave." She whispered, feeling like her heart might explode soon.

He growled or maybe that was a scoff- sounded the same in her ears- before he left in a hurry.

* * *

Thranduil felt a bit perturbed now that he could think more clearly about it. She looked at him differently than before; there was no amusement, no teasing. Instead it was like a huge depth of emptiness which was exactly why he felt a bit off.

When he walked into his room, the first sight his eyes met was a bow.

"Legolas, what is it that you want?" Thranduil asked, pushing the bow aside as his son let him in.

"I heard just now that Faervel wants to send Mistril patrol near Dol Guldur."

"And?" Thranduil asked nonchalantly.

"You cannot allow it! You know well that in the past year men have been talking about orcs going in and out of there."

"What do men know..."Thranduil scoffed.

"If you send her there, worse rumors will spread. Her wrists...they will believe she's also involved with orcs."

"She could be for all we know."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at his father but didn't mutter another word. It was infuriating seeing the king act so stubborn.

"Be wise, Legolas. You found her wounded just outside Greenwood yet she was on the Elf Path. Our forest was not chosen randomly."

"That was more than 100 years ago! She proved to be a good fighter and a good friend."

"Do you know what those marks mean in our language? They translate to Dark Fire. There were rumors when I was just like you about bindings that do not leave you to die. If touched by the dark fire, an elf will not be welcomed to the Halls of Mandos or in Valinor."

"And you believe such ancient stories?" Legolas asked rising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"I didn't until I saw her."

"She is not evil." Legolas repeated the statemtn that he has been saying ever since he brought Mistril in.

"And she couldn't die either, could she? You didn't save her, Legolas. Her soul was sent back."


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Legolas had no word in sending Mistril to Dol Guldur but suddenly Faervel had a change of heart and sent her with Tudor instead of sending her alone.

“This place is horrible.” The archer whispered, feeling his heart pound loudly in his chest.

“We’re nowhere close to it, though.” She answered, her mind going back and forth between the aftermaths of her curiosity. “What is this place we were sent to?”

“A fortress. It used to be part of Greenwood but then-“Tudor stopped and remembered how Thranduil reacted when he told Mistril about the war. “-then it wasn’t anymore.” He continued slowly.

Mistril rolled her eyes at the obvious change of mind. It took them the whole day to get there and the closer they got the darker and tighter became the forest. Tudor had to stop several times because he felt like somebody was suffocating him.

Dol Guldur was an ugly place. It reminded Mistril of the cold and damp darkness she felt before only this one felt more real. It was deserted as far as they could see.

“Anything?” Tudor asked, standing at the entrance while Mistril ventured inside. The stone walls were wet and everything was broken. Each step seemed like it shook the ground, every breath she took made her feel colder and there was much to be said of the fortress.

“There’s nobody in here! At least, not now.” She mumbled the later part.

“Let’s return. This place makes my blood freeze!” Tudor shouted an urge to make her leave taking over him.

He was right to believe so because Mistril’s attraction to the darkness was hard to sustain, especially in such a place. She breathed out as she walked deeper into the fortress yet not enough. It was just one step but her eyes widened and she felt fear crawl up her arms again. It was incredibly strong. It wasn’t forceful but alluring.

“What is this?” she said out loud in awe at the way her hands started to tremble.

The same cloaked creature lurked around her, making her gasp at her own imagination. She didn’t look back, didn’t take a peek over her shoulder because she was afraid it might turn up to be real this time. But someone grabbed her arm and spun her around and it had brown hair and brown eyes.

“Let’s go.” Tudor whispered with eyes that have seen a ghost.

They barely walked a mile, with Tudor becoming more talkative now that they were on their way back, when she heard something; murmurs in a language she recognized.

Tudor was rambling about wine when she grabbed his elbow to stop him.

"Orcs." She whispered and both elves jumped into trees. Tudor grabbed his bow and nodded at her as sign to go and investigate.

Mistril followed the voices and jumped from tree to tree until she caught sight of a group of orcs talking to each other.

“Move along, Lugdum! We don’t want to be late!” A shabby looking creature told to another as he pushed this Lugdum forward harshly.

“Ain’t like they’re waiting for us! I’ll arrive when I’ll arrive!” Lugdum answered in a voice that sounded too high for a real man.

“Say that to his face then! I’d like to see your ugly head down at his feet! Ha!” Another orc said before he spat at Lugdum’s feet.

It looked like they were going to fight and kill each other off when they all froze. Another group of orcs came from another part of the woods with one large and strong looking orc leading around 10 other.

“Oi, Ghob! What took you so long?!”

“Some filth attacked us a few miles away. Let’s go. He’s waiting for us.” Ghob replied with a hateful sneer.

“I’ll move when I’ll want to move! I’m hungry now!” The same Lugdum complained and literally fell on his bottom.

The largest orc growled and hit the two’s heads against each other before he eventually agreed and they camped there for the day. Sun wasn’t shining through the thick branches of that side of the wood so there was no hurry for them.

Mistril swiftly returned to Tudor and told him about the orcs. However she didn’t seem scared of worried about them, more curious than anything.

“We should listen to what they say and report it back.”

“I don’t speak orcish.” Tudor said with an expression of disgust.

“I do.”

Tudor shook his head in disbelief. She really wasn’t helping with her current situation in the kingdom.

* * *

 

From what Mistril could hear, the orcs had a meeting to attend to which was strange enough in itself. But the so called meeting was in Dol Guldur and they were talking about one darker than night and wiser than any. Those were big words for orcs so she believed them.

Moving a bit, she made a bit of noise and the orcs looked up warily.

"Somebody's watching us," Ghob muttered with a scowl. He drew out his sword and spat. "Come out filth!"

It should have been easy if Tudor didn't fire a few arrows already. She jumped down over an orc and kicked him down. Next she drew her sword and made quick use of it. It seemed Mistril didn't like prolonging death because she killed a majority of them in a very clean manner. But then she had the unfortunate luck to lock eyes with Lugdum who caught her arm and noticed her wrist.

"The black language on an elf! Ain't that funny, ay?" He asked, his little black holes that he called eyes glinting. "Mates, this one's marked!" He screamed before his attention fell back on her, "Ya'll be squirming soon. He'll call you back to him, like the rest of us."

"What do you mean? Who?" She asked her eyes narrowing at the smelly orc.

"Why not find out for yourself? Time will come soon, slave."  He might have not had the intention of killing her but from an outsider’s point of view, Mistril was in danger. An arrow fell through Lugdum’s head and he fell backwards as Tudor and another elf jumped down.

But that was enough for Mistril's head to pound like it was going to explode. She couldn't open her eyes and everything she could hear was a high pitched noise. It slowly became lower and lower until a voice whispered in her head. The words were incoherent but she knew...she knew she heard it before.

"Are you hurt?"

It was not Tudor. He wrapped his arms around her and helped her on her feet before she realized it was the soft voice of another elf. Mistril looked up and narrowed her eyes at the cloaked figure. She could barely see his eyes.

“I’m alright you don’t have to help me.” She mumbled yet using him to find her balance. The cloaked elf saw her eyes before anything else and he gasped.

“Mistril?”

"You know me?" She asked looking up at him curiously. He was rather tall but she wasn’t a short elf either so she could look him in the eye if she wanted to.  

"Of course I do. I've known you since you were an elfling." He said still in awe. His eyes went first on her short orange hair before they landed on her green eyes. "You don't know who I am?"

"Lady Mistril was found almost dead 100 years ago and she cannot remember much of her past." Tudor explained gathering the dead orcs together so he could burn them at once.

The stranger seemed hurt before he pulled his cloak down and she could finally see him. He had golden hair that sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes were so blue that she swore she could see the sky in them. He was handsome in an almost godlike manner and he was shining with kindness and hope.

"Why are you here though, lord Glorfindel?" Tudor asked, approaching the two.

"Glorfindel," She whispered, her eyes widening in surprise.

It was **him**. His face flashed across her mind in different places and at different moments in her life. His golden hair was swaying in the wind as his grip on her tightened but not enough to hurt her.

"How do we know each other?" She asked touching his hand and getting in return a lot of brief sights of either a battlefield or a palace.

"The king will be interested in that information as well." Tudor added glancing between the two suspiciously.

"Of course. I will tell our story once we arrive in front of him for I do not enjoy telling the same thing twice." He said and smiled at her.

The whole way back to the Halls was interesting. From Tudor's point of view, it looked like Mistril was growing incredibly fond of Glorfindel and she was doing nothing but watch him. He was not bothered by it because he was doing the same when she was not looking.

As soon as they arrived, a guard went up to Thranduil's chambers and informed him of his guest. Glorfindel took his time, staying as close to Mistril as possible.

"What may I owe this unannounced visit to?" Thranduil asked making his way to Glorfindel.

"I have news from Rivendell. Lord Elrond has an important message." The golden haired elf replied in a business tone.

Hearing that, Thranduil glanced at Tudor and Mistril. The archer left, sensing the hostility in his king’s tense figure but Glorfindel grabbed Mistril's hand for her to remain surprising even the king.

"I see you have met Mistril," Thranduil said feeling quite uncomfortable at how compliant Mistril was.

"We have indeed, after so long." He said looking at the elleth with warmth.

"He knows who I am." Mistril said with amazement in her voice. "Please tell me now. Tell me how we know each other."

Thranduil invited both to sit while he decided to stay on his feet. Finally someone had the answer he wanted and that was Glorfindel out of anyone else. He was looking forward to having this puzzle solved but at the same time it meant Mistril’s prolonged stay in Greenwood might be cut short.

"Mistril, daughter of Valdaglerion. It's been too long since I saw such green eyes that convey both the past and present." Glorfindel started smiling at the woman in front of him. "You have grown into a beautiful elleth."

"Who was my father?" She asked feeling insane happiness.

"Valdaglerion was Gondolin’s treasured blacksmith. He forged many swords, mine included. His wife was a musician at the court. His two sons were warriors I had fought alongside and his daughters...one was a musician at the palace and the other was more interested in the army than anything else."

"Is that why I am so fond of swords?"

Glorfindel laughed whole-heartedly, "You were fond of fighting in general. I can still remember this elfling that enjoyed sneaking into the training grounds with her wooden sword. Your brothers taught you well but you wanted more...you wanted to actively fight into my army."

Glorfindel could still see her running around saying she could take him on any day. Thranduil sighed relieved by what he heard. If Mistril had always had this peculiar attraction to fighting then nothing changed. She was still better at sparing and patrolling rather than helping around the kingdom.

"What happened to me?"

"I do not know for sure. I lost sight of you and your family during the fall of Gondolin." Glorfindel answered looking into her eyes with worry.

"He died heroically."

For some reason Thranduil's remark sounded more like he was annoyed rather than joyful. Glorfindel was a hero in the eyes of every elf that lived and Thranduil had immense respect for him but not at that particular moment.  

"So then I come from Gondolin?" She asked still not very sure. But some of those memories were coming back to her slowly. Glorfindel's face was like a tip of the trail leading her to her happy memories.

"Gondolin fell a long time ago." Thranduil said.

"So then my family...is dead?"

"I cannot say. It was a bloody and messy battle and many have probably sacrificed their lives."

"Very few survived the memory." Thranduil added watching Mistril.

"But what have I done from that moment to my discovery in Greenwood?" She asked still having just one small piece of the puzzle.

Glorfindel didn't have an answer for that. He was worried because the elfling full of happiness he knew became an elleth of much suffering. Her eyes were the best mirror to her soul and everything she lived but could not remember. Unlike the other elves, Glorfindel had a certain way of looking at her –with genuine care, Thranduil will realize later on- and she was an open book in front of him because of that.  

"I'm sorry. I should have searched for all the remaining survivors."

She closed her eyes and frowned at a memory that hurt just as much. She was somewhere very dark and cold and she hadn't eaten in a while. She felt tired and wanted nothing but to close her eyes forever. That did not happen and a tinge of pain inflicted her heart. She wasn't sure for how long she had been there but it didn't even matter. Nobody was going to save her, not even her hero Glorfindel.

“No one will save you. You’re mine now.”

Mistril opened her eyes and she started to cry. Glorfindel's hand reached towards her but she slapped it away harshly.

"I was there, alone and hurt, for a long, long time. I wanted to die but I couldn't. Why- why did nobody come after me?" She whimpered, her teary eyes letting both Glorfindel and Thranduil speechless. "Why did no elf come searching for me? For all that time." She asked her eyes moving on Thranduil.

The Elvenking was shocked. Those green eyes, always blank in front of him, were finally unveiling themselves. She was hurt and fragile and he couldn't believe he thought she was a threat for his precious peace. But his eyes fell on her wrists and doubt resisted in his heart,

"Where is that? Who took you?" Glorfindel asked.

Mistril didn't want to remember. She shook her head and jumped up.

"No, I cannot visit that wretched place, not even in my memory. It was worse than death." She said glancing between the two. "I'm going back to my room."

* * *

 

Glorfindel watched the orange haired elleth run away, her beautiful green eyes in tears. That was a sight he rarely saw when she was young. Thranduil turned to the Balrog slayer with one eyebrow rose, especially seeing how hurt he seemed.

"What exactly was your relationship with Mistril?" Thranduil asked.

Glorfindel looked at the Elvenking and sighed.

"She used to come to me and play or do errands for her father."

"So she is the daughter of Valdaglerion. She should be able to forge her own sword if she wants to." Thranduil thought out loud, finally realizing why she was so disappointed with his blacksmiths.

Glorfindel watched the king with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Thranduil wasn't the friendliest elf.

"Did you make her feel unwelcome?"

Thranduil would have almost scoffed if it wasn't for the memory of the last few years. They fought only hours ago over the same subject: her wrists.  

"What makes you believe that?" The Elvenking asked eyeing Glorfindel suspiciously.

"I am only wondering."

"If she wanted to leave she had many opportunities. She was not kept as a prisoner. She spent more than 100 years here." Thranduil added pissed off that he was being incriminated for something he didn’t do.

Glorfindel sighed feeling even worse than before. Mistril has been in Greenwood for more than 100 years and he didn't even know. He didn't search for his people and just went along with the Valar's choice of returning him to Arda. He never assured himself that all the survivors from Gondolin were found.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. If she was indeed taken by orcs then you couldn't have found her even if you searched every cave." Thranduil said once he noticed the discomfort on Glorfindel's face.

"I was her hero and I let her down." Glorfindel whispered.

* * *

 

Mistril was going to her room when she felt a slight breeze behind her.

"What are you doing messing around? Don't you have to help Gweluven?" She asked in a scolding tone, surprising the blond.

"Is that a way to speak with the prince?" He asked glaring playfully at her as he put his sword down.

"I remember you telling me not to behave with you as if to a prince. If I do so, then you should treat me like a stranger."

Legolas was taken aback by her sudden seriousness.

"You're not a stranger, Mistril. What happened?"

It was quite clear that something bad happened to her; Legolas would have believed it was about his father again. Thranduil was excellent at making Mistril feel unwanted.

"Mistril!"

Both turned their heads towards the man searching for the one elleth he forgot about. If her face softened at the sight of Legolas then she became the same empty shell like when she first met the Elvenking.

"Glorfindel? When did you arrive?" Legolas seemed extremely pleased by the warrior. "Mistril, this is-"

"I know who he is. “ She hissed before spinning around and rushing to her room.

Legolas blinked in awe. He had never seen her so angry before, not even when she had to go to Dol Guldur.

"You must have done something great to get her so mad." Legolas stated turning to him.

Glorfindel couldn't argue with that.

* * *

 

It was later that night when Mistril stood in front of her window, staring ahead at the sky with eyes shining in sadness. The world she was dragged into was far darker than any shadow. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she let herself fall into that memory.

"Lirneth! Wait for me!" Mistril screamed at her young sister. There were so many orcs that she could barely take a step without defending herself. But Lirneth was still far and glancing behind, her brothers were busy protecting other civilians.

"Mistril!" The elfling shouted back, ducking when an elf was thrown at her.

Mistril tried her best to make her way to her sister. She looked back again, hoping her father was near after they got lost but she didn't see him. Instead, she saw her oldest brother jumping over an orc before having to kill a few more.

But it wasn't enough. She had to move forward but her strength was not a match for the huge number of enemies.

"Mistril!" She heard Lirneth's voice but couldn't see her anymore; "Mistril!" was heard again.

The same image of the red haired elfling being pushed down and killed came into her mind. It was horrible seeing it so much clearer than before. Mistril shouted in pain as an orc got to her and scratched her leg. Looking around she saw the decapitation of her oldest brother and she felt another piece of her heart break. And then a group of orcs surrounded her and started to call her names. She was ready to fight for her life but the whole memory became black.

She woke up in a cold place with blood dripping from the side of her head. She looked around alarmed and figured she was in a cell.

"Hey! Wake up already! Let's enjoy!"

She frowned but couldn't even have an opinion because somebody grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out, throwing her into an empty space. Orcs and goblins were around, watching two other orcs fight between themselves. One of them was huge.

"Get her in! Get her in! That filth will scream beautifully!" A small sized orc urged.

She looked up at the huge one and swallowed nervously. The pain that followed was excruciating and it was only the beginning.

Mistril opened her eyes and shuddered at the memory. She could still feel her former injuries and how eager orcs were to see such a show again. It was a surprised that she survived in the first place.

A knock made her flinch and from the way it sounded she was sure it was Gweluven. Just as she expected, he walked in with a confused expression.

"Did lord Glorfindel ask you to check on me?" She asked annoyed.

"Is there a reason why he should?"

Mistril shook her head and welcomed Gweluven in the same manner as usual. They sat on the bed and just like every time, she waited for him to ask her whatever he was supposed to ask.

Surprisingly he didn't mutter a word but just stood there. His eyes were not judging her but they weren't as genuine as Glorfindel's.

"My family is dead. They were murdered by orcs. My city has fallen and I know now that I had experiences worse than death itself." She started knowing he wanted to know.

"King Thranduil sent me to check on you.” Gweluven said eventually.

“If he has anything to say, he should do it personally.” Mistril answered coldly, getting up and turning her back to the healer.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days passed since Glorfindel arrived and unlike her original plan, Mistril followed him everywhere. Dinners were especially interesting because she’d stay next to him and eat silently while Glorfindel would speak to Thranduil about their issues.

Thinking about it, Glorfindel came to Greenwood with a reason and she wasn’t interested in it until now. The two must have spoken about it but none said a word to her. Even Faervel seemed well informed; he’d lock himself in his office or with the king and talk for hours.

But Glorfindel was keeping her busy. He had many stories to tell and Mistril was eager to hear them all, particularly the ones about her family.

“Your mother played the harp. She was disappointed that her oldest daughter was so bad at it.” He said as they were taking a stroll through the kingdom.

“What about my father?”

“Valdaglerion was a wise elf. He taught you how to hold a sword but never how to wield it. He believed it would be better for you to live a peaceful life rather than sacrifice it by my side." Glorfindel said with a tinge of melancholy. He could still hear Valdaglerion's worry in his husky voice as he came to the palace and vehemently urged Glorfindel to stop Mistril from ever getting into battle or even petty fights.

Glancing at the elleth, he was quite glad he didn't listen to the blacksmith or else she would have been dead.

"And yet you didn't listen to him." She said sounding like she was just as glad as him with the results.

"You used to spare with my men. I always wondered if those fights were just a game or you were developing your own fighting style."

"I'm sure whatever it was, it made an amusing sight." She commented trying her hardest not to smile. She was still fairly disappointed with him.

"It wasn't amusing but amazing. That helped you fight your way through those orcs."

"Yet they still caught me." She said meekly. It was still uncomfortable just thinking about those times.

"You were outnumbered. Even so, you escaped and we are able to have this discussion because of your swordsmanship." Glorfindel added turning to look into those green eyes. "Come with me to Rivendell."

"Why would I?" She asked rising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"I will not disappoint you or myself a second time. Lord Elrond will welcome you gladly." He said, his eyes sparkling with genuine care.

"What will king Thranduil say?" She asked receiving a confused expression from the Balrog killer. "I mean, I have lived here for so long and I'm sure he will prefer to be informed of any change that might take place." she said randomly, always growing polite in her speech when she was nervous.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem." Glorfindel said slowly, watching her with a brotherly glow. "I can talk to him, if you want."

"No! No, no, it's fine. Let me do it." she interfered with wide alert eyes. If Glorfindel had known better, which he did, he would have gone and talked to the king himself, assured that Thranduil wouldn't deny him this favor. But she seemed so keen on doing it herself that he decided he'd let her do so first and then have his personal conversation. 

* * *

It was past dawn when Mistril wandered around the halls, trying to avoid Thranduil as much as she could because if they'd meet then she'd have to talk to him. If she were to stay in her room, Gweluven would come and ask questions and then report everything to his king. If she were to go out, Tudor and Maerdor and the rest would crowd for answers about the Balrog slayer. There was also Legolas, to whom Mistril felt rather guilty. She wanted to leave with Glorfindel and yet there was a part of her that knew she would miss Greenwood.

Wandering the halls, she ended up in front of the stairs down to the prison. She never went there but it seemed like the only place she could hide for a while. Step after step, it got colder and as she opened one cell and sat in, she realized it felt familiar. It was not traumatizing and it wasn't bringing up any memories but that might have been because she was focusing on the king. 

Ever since Mistril became part of Greenwood, Thranduil did nothing but send her on long errands and have her inform him wherever she was going, with whom, establish many reasons why she needed to do this or that and eventually bicker on those reasons. She chuckled as she remembered how he reacted when he found out that she begun working at Miluinir's father's forging shop.

_"What have I told you, Mistril?" the king asked, already tired of the discussion. Only seeing her face made him tired and he couldn't move over the fact that she seemed to defy him for her own amusement. "You do what I order you to. Afternoons should be have been spent with Dorondir as of last week."_

_"I went with him to protect a few men that came with provisions. Nothing happened on the way here so I went and met Gaerben (Miluinir's father) at his store. I watched him and it seems I am quite handy." she smiled after complimenting herself. "And anyway, I do everything you order me so I might as well enjoy myself in my free time."_

_"Should I take that free time away then?" he asked glaring at her even though it wasn't as imposing as before._

_"No," but her answers were still not containing that respectful word that he wanted to hear, in his position as king. "But as long as I do my chores and I do them well, I'd like to have control over what my hobbies could be. Besides, it's Miluinir's father which means you will still get a report from him on what I did that day."_

_Mistril was an adult that knew how to sweet talk people into agreeing with her and yet Thranduil was so stubborn._

She laughed as she leaned back and enjoyed the silence until someone else made a bit of noise. Interesting enough, it was Faervel. He was a ball of glum no matter how much Hinnorbes explained how he was actually a gentle and thoughtful elf. He might have been for all Mistril knew but she never saw anyone disobeying Faervel, not even LEgolas who was the prince. 

"What are you doing down here?" he asked looking down at her sitting figure. 

"Taking important decisions."

"Daughter of Valdaglerion," He started sounding impressed which was an improvement compared to how monotone he was usually. "Who would have imagined you come from the Fallen City." 

"I'm sorry I caused you trouble with the documents." she said, thinking that she might as well apologize if she were to leave. "I'm sorry for any type of trouble you had to go through and I'm also thankful. Maerdor told me later on that it was you who assured the king I am fit to be on guard duty."

Faervel didn't deny or agree. It was always a mystery what he was thinking about.

"You fight well. I sent you to Dol Guldur because I knew nothing will happen." he said as he took one step closer. "I read your reports but I only gave Tudor's forward to the king. He is aware of what happens around his kingdom but he doesn't know everything the orcs mentioned in their conversations." he admitted making Mistril suddenly get on her feet.

"There is a shadow that's brooding over the fortress and it's drawing them all to it." she said growing serious.

Faervel seemed to have come with expectations of what the two will talk about; if she was careful enough she might have noticed that his posture was more relaxed than on many occasions they had met. 

"I know. Glorfindel said the same thing and yet nobody but you and I know what truly happened."  

"Why? I saw a cloaked figure that seemed to envelop me in a thick veil of some strange power. It hissed to me." she said approaching him cautiously. But Faervel didn't move an inch, instead he leaned against the cell door. 

"That's not what I'm talking about. It's the fight you had with the orcs. The king must never know what they told you or peace will be threatened inside the kingdom and suspicion will arise."

"You won't have to worry. I'll leave soon for Rivendell." she said her eyes glinting with the same type of distant and controlled emotion as Faervel's. "Glorfindel came for the same reason, didn't he? He was sent to check if the rumors are true."

"Lord Elrond is a wise elf. He will know how to manage you." it almost sounded like he cared enough to mention she could be safe there.

"Did you know we would meet orcs on the way back?"

"Or on the way to it," Faervel said bluntly. "I sent my best archer with you just in case."

"What did he write in his report?" She asked suddenly growing curious what Tudor avoided to mention.

"Darkness drawing you to it. Orcish. You’re not getting any brighter. But that doesn't matter as long as _he_ is gone." he emphasized, his tone rising a bit in power.

"And if he returns?"

"Let's hope he won't. For both our safeties," He said as he turned around and left, although he did not go up into the halls but deeper down into the prison. 

 _At least somebody's sincere_ , she thought, feeling like she has been both threatened and advised by the same person. 

* * *

And then Mistril found herself in front of Thranduil's room. He was inside for sure, or he was on his mighty stage of stone, sipping on his precious wine. But it was quite late for a drink even for him.

Preparing herself mentally, she knocked twice. A clear yet tired voice allowed her to enter and Mistril gaped at the sight. He was dressed only in a tunic that reached his knees and still it was a very interesting sight. Looking up at his face, his crown was missing and his hair was slightly pulled up. He was getting ready to sleep or maybe for a bath but whatever that was, it seemed like he was glowing in her eyes.

Mistril could feel her heart beat again, so fast and loud that she hoped Thranduil couldn't hear it. She swallowed nervously and took a step forward. It was such a difference between king Thranduil and the elf Thranduil that it always took Mistril aback.

"What is so important that you had to come to my room for?" He asked in the usual sassy manner.

"Um- well, I wanted to report my activities for the day and some that will happen in the future..." It sounded a lot like a child's banter rather than a serious adult. 

Thranduil raised an eyebrow curiously. Her eyes were wandering all over yet not on him. It was intriguing how she could act so nonchalant whenever she wanted something, talking to the king as if he was her friend and then whenever they'd meet in the halls or outside in the forest, she'd blabber like an elfling. Although he had watched her closely for the past years, she never gave a glimpse of her true self until recently.  

"Well? What's so important that it cannot wait until morning?" He asked sounding more and more annoyed even if he wasn't.

"I entered the fortress, as you know already. Someone was there, someone in a dark cloak that I believe was expecting the orcs." She started hoping Tudor's report involved that detail, "I haven't had any memories disturbing me granted to Hinnorbes and her mixture. I have gone to Gaebern's store several times even after you ordered me not to and I have been going around the kingdom doing everything that you told me not to. I won't apologize, though." Again she finished without adding any type of word of respect for the king. 

"And? Did you come here to get yourself punished for your lack of proper behavior?" Thranduil was losing his patience although it was rather amusing seeing her act so unguarded.

"I'm sure Glorfindel's stories did not change your perspective over me si I want to inform you that he asked me to follow him to Rivendell." she said, having this little grain of expectancy. For what exactly, it was hard to say. Maybe understanding or maybe finally sincerity from the doubtful Elvenking.  

"And what makes you believe he hasn't told me already?" he asked not moved at all by her confession. The truth was that he didn't know but he could see it in Glorfindel's attitude during their personal meetings. 

"He promised he will let me tell you first. He listens to me, unlike others." she said, realizing she might have crossed the line a bit. But Thranduil didn't sketch a single expression. "It seems Lord Elrond would gladly accept me for who I am." She said particularly emphasizing what she knew would piss Thranduil off. "I'm just glad I could prove to you that I treasure Legolas just as much as you do."

"What will you tell him then? That you'll leave him as soon as someone you trust appeared?"

"Legolas is not a child anymore. He will understand."

For a moment she saw real raw emotion in his eyes. He was regretting what he said before and yet he couldn't help but still doubt her.

* * *

On the days that followed, the rumor that Mistril will leave was spread throughout the kingdom. Legolas got mad for approximately two days before he understood family was important and Glorfindel was like a brother to her. Miluinir stood at her side by all costs and the king let her do whatever she wanted without repercussions. On the day that Mistril left Greenwood, it rained. However, many wood elves came to say their farewell including Gweluven whose feelings were mixed. 

"Are you sure it is better to leave? What if there is a higher reason for you to be here?" the healer asked looking at her with skepticism.

"If the Valar plans for me to return, then I will. For now, it's best for me to leave." she answered, finding it impossible to hide her smile. It wasn't often that Gweluven showed his acceptance of her and seeing just how deep was his interest for her fate made her feel like she truly lived happily for a while. 

Faervel did not say a word but it felt more like a friend rather than a commander. Hinnorbes and Miluinir walked up to her and the elleth handed her a few phials containing what Mistril hoped was the mixture that seemed to calm her down and let her sleep. Legolas hugged her tightly and walked with Tudor and Maerdor up to the end of the elven path still not ready to let his companion go.

"We'll meet again." she assured him, "I'm sure you'll become a greater ruler than any of us had seen. Don't lose your purity, Legolas." She said softly, almost tearing up at her own words while looking into his grey eyes.

"We'll meet again one day and you may not even recognize me then." He said his voice on the edge of crying.

"Farewell prince of Greenwood." She said waving at the three skilful wood elves.

"Will she be alright? Even the king seemed uncertain of this sudden change of heart that she had." Maerdor started on their way back to the palace. Legolas sighed for the sixth time in ten minutes but didn't utter a word. "She's a great fighter, it's such a pity she chose to use her sword for Glorfindel."

"She didn't choose to fight for him but to go and experience something new. Just like you and your constant desire to fight, she probably needed a reason to go out in the world. Lord Elrond will give her more freedom than our king would allow." Tudor answered, far too serious compared to his usual loose personality. Then, realizing that he might have said something too provocative while the prince was so gloomy, he added, "King Thranuil couldn't keep her happy here. My prince you will meet her again and you will see that your father was wise in his decision."

"He wanted her gone anyway." Legolas mumbled grumpily, "He believed she was evil and that she would have only drawn darkness to us." 

"Only time will tell," Tudor concluded the discussion, placing a comforting hand on Legolas' back. 

* * *

Since Glorfindel came on his beautiful white horse, he assured her there was no need for another because Asfaloth was strong enough to carry them both. That was how she ended up staying in front of him with his arms safely secured around her.

"What's Rivendell like?" She asked trying to reassure herself that she took the right decision.

"Peaceful. You will love it there and they will welcome you too. I already sent word to Lord Elrond so everything will be prepared for when we arrive." He sounded incredibly serene for what a change it was for Mistril.

There was silence until Glorfindel looked down at the thoughtful elleth. He tried entering her mind once but it was like a wall well guarded.

"Are you thinking about Legolas? I heard you were his most trusted companion before the king started to send you on tiresome errands." Glorfindel said bemusedly.

"He found me in the forest and insisted that I was alive. I will forever be grateful to him." She said looking down at her hands. "You know about my wrists, don't you? I'm sure the Elvenking told you about them."

"He did not, actually. Gweluven is the one that gave me a full report on your state of mind and body. Thranduil only talked to me about state affairs and rumors that have been spreading all through middle earth. The only time he mentioned you was after you talked to him about your leave."

"And what did he say? Did he jump in joy?" she asked sarcastically making him laugh.

"No but I think, and this is only my opinion, that he regretted it. He might be doubtful and selfish and overly suspicious but that is how a king should be, especially one who suffered as he did." Glorfindel explained, his voice growing sorrow, "Maybe one day he will tell you everything. One day you might find that you two have more in common than you expect."  

"What if these green eyes will turn black by then?" She asked, remembering her memories and dreams.

Glorfindel didn't answer but he tightened his grip on the reins. It was a lot comfortable because as many other elves, they didn’t use much gear on their horses. There was such a strong bond between the rider and its horse that there was no need to control but just understand one another.

* * *

From Greenwood to Rivendell was quite a distance and yet the journey was shorter than she expected. She was excited to meet what Glorfindel called the Last Homey House of the Eat Sea and its lord. Glorfindel told her much about Elrond and his bravery in the war. He was also a friend to each and every race that needed his counsel, compared to Thranduil who seemed to strongly dislike everyone, especially dwarves.

“He is not the only one but he does seem to have a tendency to overreact over that matter. I heard his business with the dwarves of Erebor did not end well.” Glorfindel commented when she opened up the subject.

By day they would speak about everything and anything and by night Glorfindel could see a change in Mistril’s demeanor. She either had nightmares, or she’d prefer not to sleep at all and train with her daggers or simply she’d stand by the river and look back at the way they came from.

“What made you decide so fast that you wanted to come with me?” He asked one night.

“You know me,” was her simple answer.

 “So did the people of Greenwood. You opened up to them and they did so too in return. They seemed to like you.”

“But the feeling of belonging appeared only when you arrived. It might sound childish but I feel this strong sense of safety and family when I am around you. I’d like to cling onto it for as long as I can.”

Hearing her words Glorfindel’s eyes softened and he wrapped an arm around her figure. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his beating heart. It was calming and it reminded her of her father for some reason.

“You must have felt loneliness for a long time.” He said nuzzling his nose into her hair, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have gone through such experiences.”

“I suppose more important battles had to be fought. I vanished in the middle of war and was forced to fight my own battle.”

She was not necessarily blaming Glorfindel anymore. She felt that if she blamed everyone, it would just pull her back to where she escaped from and she didn’t want that. She shuddered at a quick flash of a tall and sinister man in her mind.

“You went inside the fortress as well, haven’t you?” she asked after a quick pause in which she could only hear his steady breathing and the camp fire burning.

“I have, yes. On my way back I met a group of orcs, slightly bigger than the last time I saw some. They were expected, from what I understood.” He explained before he asked, “What did you see in Dol Guldur?”

“Nothing or maybe it was something. I felt a thick veil of darkness fall over me and I couldn’t stand being there.” She answered, getting quite comfortable in his arms. 

“There are rumors about a wizard hiding in the fortress. Men spread them so they may not be accurate. Maybe orcs are invading it for their own purposes.” He muttered before he glanced at her hands. “Do you remember how you got those?”

“I don’t want to.”

* * *

The last night before they arrived was particularly strange for Mistril. Glorfindel was sleeping and his horse was resting nearby. She went and placed her feet in the water, looking at her reflection carefully. Her hair used to be long and dark red. Grabbing a hand through her short locks it felt like her head was lighter and she could fight better without being careful of her hair. Her eyes narrowed as her mind unveiled yet another painful memory.

_She was chained to a wall and she was half naked. Voices were yelling at her but she could hardly hear them. Something hard and cold touched her bare back before it hit her making her scream. It happened a few more times and her screams became louder until she could hardly keep herself awake. It wasn’t just that moment but all those that came before; she has been in there for so long that she could barely remember how her language sounded or how the sun felt on her skin. Water and food were nice dreams for her but there was always a gleam of hope in her eyes. Maybe he will save her. Maybe her hero will come and ease the pain. But darkness was lurking in her heart. Or maybe he won’t, it said. Maybe he is dead or maybe he doesn’t care about a fallen elfling. Why would he? He was a lord while she was the blacksmith’s daughter. She was nothing. Those thoughts ate her soul bit by bit. One final hit sent her into unconsciousness but the orcs were not yet satisfied. They threw muddy water over her face and she did wake up but she didn’t open her eyes._

_“Wake her up, wake her up! Come on! I want my turn!” One filthy orc shouted._

_“Wait in line! We have enough time. She won’t go anywhere.” Another said._

_Those words stung. They were right and she was doomed to an infinite torture. Death was too good at that point. No, she was angry. She was broken, disappointed in  her own kin and her elvish light diminished to the point it transformed into something else. Mistril’s once deep green eyes became pitch black and she lost all there was that made her an elf._

Mistril opened her eyes and gasped at not only what she saw but also what she felt. So much anger, so much pain and they led her to become a monster.

The wind blew softly and urged her to look up. On the other shore she noticed someone standing, or hiding in the shadows of the trees. His form was hard to distinguish but his eyes were bright and they were staring at her. Those eyes…

“Daewen,” He whispered making a chill go down her spine. “Daewen.” He repeated that name two more times and the water around her started to boil. She pulled her legs out and backed away but one glance down and her hands started to burn. She gasped and looked up at him again but he was gone. Or maybe he was never there to begin with and this was just another memory. But no, the burning sensation was real and her marks grew darker and more accentuated than before.

Misril decided to keep that as a secret. Nobody could understand it anyway so it was better to keep it all to herself for now. The last day was silent and eventless which let her think freely about what happened. Glorfindel glanced at her every now and then but it was difficult to get a picture of what was going through her mind.

Getting closer to the gates of Rivendell, she started to feel nervous. She woke up in Greenwood and her friendship with Legolas kept her there but now she wasn’t so sure. She was awake as Asflaoth slowed down his pace and eventually stopped. Three men were waiting for them, all dressed in elegant robes with dark long hair that reached their mid back and quite intimidating in expressions.

Sensing her anxiety, Glorfindel reached out to help her get off the horse. She didn’t even notice when he did so but then again, her eyes were locked on the elves. Very slowly, she used Glorfindel’s help and decided to keep her hands alongside her body at all costs. The elf standing in the middle smiled softly and waited for the two to reach him.

“I’m glad to welcome you to Rivendell, Lady Mistril. It’s my pleasure to have another Gondolindrim pass my threshold.” He said in a low yet very comforting tone of voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Rivendell was indeed homey. As soon as they arrived, Glorfindel knew Mistril will enjoy herself in this new environment. And she did, she looked at everything with bright eyes and smiled every time they'd pass by an elf. Watching her from the side as they walked up the stairs to their rooms, he couldn’t help but see the old glow of his city in her. It was consoling to know that she was alive and well and he was going to make sure she will never be taken ever again.

From her personal point of view, it was slightly different. It reminded her of Gondolin as well but it wasn't making her feel homesick. It was itself a place of warmth, of good will and joy. It was this little haven that once entered it was hard to leave.

"We have prepared your room, Mistril. Lindir will show you the way as I have still more to discuss with Glorfindel." Lord Elrond said signing for an elf to come to her before he waited for the two to leave up another pair of stairs.

"My name is Lindir. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mistril." He said as soon as they stepped away.

The way was full of wonder from her part. Elves were singing about a guest, one from the fallen city and she knew it was a welcoming gift in a way. It was embarrassing yet she couldn’t help but gleam at the honor.

"You don't have to call me lady. Even back home I was just the daughter of a blacksmith."

"But Valdaglerion was not ordinary blacksmith, if I recall Glorfindel's stories correctly. His skill could easily surpass what came afterwards. His swords were like none we had seen in other cities." Lindir replied, leading her to a room somewhere near a waterfall.

Mistril raised an intrigued eyebrow at the elf. He was talking with ease about a man he hadn't met.

"Do not praise him too much. Glorfindel could have overestimated my father."

Lindir glanced at her with an air of offence one might say. Clearly, he liked the golden haired warrior and had him in high esteem. Everything Glorfindel said was more or less real and that was fine with them.

And yet the disappointment in Mistril's heart would not let her trust Glorfindel like the rest. A shadow was covering her heart and it was almost impossible to break through it. She did not even realize when Lindir stopped in front of a door and turned to her.

"Lord Elrond will want to speak to you later but until then you can familiarize with your new home. If you need anything, you can ask me anytime." He said and smiled softly at her before he left.

Her new room was far better than the one in Greenwood, with a fluffy bed and a lot more toiletries. It looked like it has been slightly redecorated for a woman which meant Elrond really put thought into it.

"This is nice," she said falling back on the bed and closing her eyes. Opening them a few minutes later, she took a long look at everything, especially at the light beaming through her window while the waterfall outside was making light noise. Mistril smiled and sighed in joy, her mind wandering everywhere but her past.

When dinner came around, she expected Lindir to come and lead her to the halls but nobody arrived. She ventured by herself and she quite enjoyed the sights. Corridors were slim but well enlightened, decorations were not too eye catching and everything made her feel like she was walking in a dream. One spot she discovered was a balcony that had a great view over the city. It made her smile as she watched the sun going down, the rays of reds and yellows growing faintly into the distance.

"You must be Mistril." A voice interrupted her moment and she spun around, her short hair swirling in the light breeze. Her green eyes were such an impressive contrast to her hair and the colors in the sky that the elf felt like he was looking at a painting. "I'm Elrohir. I suppose you were searching for the dinner hall?" He asked seeing how she might have gotten lost.

"I intended to, yes. Thank you." She said smiling at the young elf. He looked to be around the same age as Legolas, maybe a bit older. "Have I seen you before? You seem vaguely familiar."

"I have a twin, Elladan. Maybe you saw him around?" Elrohir asked once they started to walk.

"No, not here. It was long ago, in Greenwood."

Elrohir suddenly started to laugh and nodded fervently.

"Right, I remember. That was indeed Elladan who went as an ambassador of Rivendell to the prince's birthday. He did say something about it back then but I'm afraid other things interfered." He said as he decided to walk her to the hall. "What a coincidence that you ended up here!"

"I only followed Glorfindel." She said, pulling her hair behind her ear. Elrohir noticed the softness in her voice while speaking of the noble elf and smiled.

"You two must be really close. You haven't seen each other in a long time and then suddenly met. It must have been overwhelming."

"It does seem very suspicious, doesn't it?" She asked only partially joking.

"The Valar has plans that cannot be perturbed by anyone, not even someone as mighty as King Thranduil." He joked as well, mimicking Thranduil's usual sassy expression. She laughed loudly surprising every elf passing them by. It sounded joyous and it resonated in the corridor.

Dinner was fun. Mistril met Elladan as well as many others and she enjoyed the brothers more than she expected. Glorfindel was sitting next to Elrond while the other side was occupied by someone else, just as high in grade, named Erestor. Mistril was next to Glorfindel and both brothers decided to stay next to her. She laughed that night with more joy than in any other and all the bad thoughts were pushed in the back of her mind…until she went to sleep.

_"Feel the power run through you and embrace it. Embrace pain and fear as they are also sources for power." The same low intimidating voice almost whispered to her._

_From what she could see he was holding tightly onto her wrists. He chuckled as a surge of pain ran up her body and she screamed. It was worse than being wounded physically or emotionally. It was a different kind of pain, one that didn't leave scars but felt like fire in her veins._

_"Rise, Daewen and do not fear me for I am the source of both your life and death." He hissed._

Her green eyes opened and she looked down at her hands. Her hair was messy and all comfort was gone. It was as if she was in a cold cell and she shuddered, bringing her legs up to her chest.

"Daewen," she whispered feeling sick in the stomach just thinking about it. He called her Daewen as he bounded her. She was just a pawn, she knew that from the beginning yet she accepted it. Just how mad was she when it happened?

* * *

 

Days passed, slower it seemed. Mistril was free to do whatever she wanted and nobody really looked twice at her wrists. Glancing at them, she thought about her discussion with Elrond.

_It happened late at night when he found her in the same spot she was in now, a place on the balcony where she could see every tree in Rivendell. Mistril raised her eyes to the moon and pondered on her memories, especially the recent one. The chains were cold on her bruised skin and there was blood everywhere. And then, in just half a moment, she was free and the filth around her was dead. There was no pain and no remorse; just anger and repulsion._

_"Are you thinking about your past?" Lord Elrond asked, approaching her slowly from the shadowy inside._

_Mistril turned to him and moved a bit so he could sit next to her. He seemed serene in the light like a man sent by the Valar. If only he could have came to her earlier._

_"I can't help it. I try not to but every time I close my eyes, I find myself in that place."_

_"Do you know where that is?" He asked softly. It was clear he understood it was a sensitive subject for her._

_"An orcish cave," Mistril replied, fidgeting unconsciously. His eyes were staring into hers but she could feel his interest into more than just her memories. "It was not by them that I was bound but by someone else." She added knowing already what he wanted to know._

_"Are you afraid?"_

_"No. Is that wrong of me?" She asked knowing it was odd. "Should I cover them? It won't be long until Lindir sees them too, or your sons."_

_"Those bindings are part of you. Even if you hide them, they won't disappear. But if you want to hide them, you are free to do so." He said before he got up and got ready to leave._

_"Wait- what am I to do while living here? As work, I mean."_

_"Anything you want." He said, "You can finally fight and travel alongside your hero."_

_Mistril blinked in confusion. He was referring to Glorfindel, whom he probably spoke carefully about her, but things changed so much from the happy times of her youth._

And so she ended up in the same place, only by day. She didn't have anything to do so she just laid back and enjoyed the air. Trees were humming to themselves and birds were talking to each other lively. Food was being cooked and swords were being forged. Horses were neighing in the stables, Asfaloth making greater noise than the rest. Then a slow paced yet beautiful song reached her ears and she nodded along. The sound of a harp was melancholic especially here in this place that seemed to feel like home. And yet something was missing.

A few hours later Mistril visited Lindir and tagged along in his business, which was not much. He was a gentle elf much like Gweluven but Lindir was younger and more genuine than the former. His long hair was down to his chest, dark and shiny. He'd move it with long elegant fingers every time it fell into his eyes while writing something. He was medium in height and very thin in frame as if he'd be slain with ease by a mere child. But his robes were made of soft colorful fabrics and he smelled like fresh flowers.

"Why are you smiling?" Lindir asked although he didn't look away from his paper.

"You're so young." She said boldly. Lindir chuckled to himself as he continued to write. "Do you have a lover already?" She added.

A sudden flush went up his neck and into his cheeks. He wasn't exactly blushing but he was embarrassed. Mistril's eyes glinted with bemusement as she leaned back in her chair and bit her lip.

"You do, don't you?"

"That is not a matter I'd like to discuss with someone I just met." He said trying to sound firmer than he was.

Mistril hummed and decided to let it go. Her eyes wandered around the office and she saw more papers lying there innocently. She grabbed a pen and in lack of anything else, she started to draw Lindir.

He knew she finally got busy with something else because she became silent. The elleth was breathing heavily alongside the soft grazes of the pen over the paper. Lindir looked up and went to check on her when he gasped.

"Is it that bad?" She asked not stopping until she had the shadows right.

"It's not bad at all, quite the opposite. Why didn't you tell me you could draw?" Lindir asked amazed by the drawing. It was him, standing in his chair writing.

"I never knew. Drawing was not on Gweluven's list so I never tried it. Can I borrow more paper?"

"Of course. Take whatever you want but let me keep this." He said grabbing the drawing from her quickly.

She remained there surprised while Lindir smiled to himself as he watched the drawing.

* * *

 

For the first weeks, Mistril did nothing but draw. It was calming and people seemed to like her works. Most of them were about Rivendell, Gondolin, her family and Glorfindel. She didn't draw anything dark because it wasn't something she wanted to remember vividly. Instead, she continued to draw Greenwood, Legolas with a sword or a bow, wood elves as she saw them and even a far away view of Dol Guldur.

If anyone wanted to find her, she was either on the balcony or in the Hall of Fire, where she also liked to spend time brooding. Nobody knew what she was thinking of and nobody asked.

"You're growing incredibly good at it." Glorfindel said as he came and sat beside her. "What else are you working on right now?"

"Nothing." She said quickly but Glorfindel wasn't convinced so he pulled it out of her grasp. "Don't look!"

"Is it me again?" He asked jokingly and turned around so she wouldn't reach it.

One glance and Glorfindel knew who that was even if it didn't have a face yet. He sighed and let her have it back. She seemed embarrassed but didn't put it in the file with the others.

"Don't say a word." She mumbled grumpily.

"Even without a face, it's quite obvious who that is."

"Maybe or maybe not," She added, "As long as he doesn't see it, it's fine."

Glorfindel watched Mistril carefully. She was fond of a person that she couldn't see but one she could only create an image by herself. That tall form dressed in golden robes, with white hair falling on his back, standing straight and highly could have been anyone. But the crown gave identity to him.

"How did Thranduil really act around you? He is extremely suspicious of what is found in his forest."

"He was doubtful. I think he still believes I came from the Enemy." She said, annoyance sipping through the words. "Which might as well be correct,"

"But it wasn't so bad, was it? Because I see longing in your eyes. You miss them."

"I do. But it's still too early to say if it's because I got used to their presence or I genuinely miss them because I care."

"You miss him." Glorfindel said watching her reactions carefully.

"I miss Legolas, yes. He used to brighten my view over the world." She mumbled grumpily.

"Of course. Legolas." Glorfindel muttered as he watched her grab her file and walk towards her room.

* * *

 

100 years in Rivendell passed differently and with fewer reasons to get angry. Nothing dark reached it and Glorfindel assured her that it will never do because of Elrond. And then a guest arrived, one that looked like a merchant but was a lot more than that.

"Mithrandir! Such a pleasure to see you but I remember whenever you do visit, it's not always good news that you bring." Glorfindel welcomed him.

But Mithrandir didn't seem bothered. He looked up from under his big hat with playfulness. His eyes were sparkling with something Mistril never figured out.

"I'm afraid this is not an exception, old friend." Mithrandir answered. "I heard you have found another to guard and protect while I was away." He added growing a bit dark in looks. "One who returned from the dead."

"Who told you that? Was it a bird or was it a guard?" Glorfindel asked with suspicion.  

"Not important now. I will talk about it later. Now, let's drink and eat because I am famished."

* * *

 

It was late in the evening when Mistril wandered down the halls. She had seen it before, the murals abut different important events that have ended with either glory or, more often, with a lot of victims. She stopped in front of each of them and fell in deep melancholy as she understood what each meant but the most impressive mural was the one of the legendary down bringing of the Enemy. _Isildur brings about the downfall of Sauron on the slopes of Orodruin_ , it said. Behind, on a stone platter held by statue was a sword, or what was left of it. It was shattered in pieces but still sharp, still glowing with time and strength. She reached out to it but her eyes widened as she retracted her hand slowly, her head aching.

Elrond found her standing in the Hall of Fire, watching the yellowish flames dance together. She was thinking of something he could only guess. Just like Glorfindel, he noticed how guarded her mind was and how often her elvish light flickered. It wasn’t worrisome yet but it gave him reasons to wonder if maybe it was better to have her go meet Lady Galadriel.

“I made a friend in Greenwood, an archer called Tudor. He told me there was a monster amongst the orcs, one that could rival the Black Knights. He said you saw it.”

“I did. It slayed men with only one sway of its sword and it decapitated some of my most prized warriors. I could only catch glimpse of its far away form but I know its eyes were bloodthirsty.” Elrond remembered those eyes, glinting from afar, inducing fear in everyone.

“Did it die?”

“I don’t know. It was only seen in Dagorlad and nowhere else.” Elrond answered her sincerely before he asked in return, “Is it troubling you, that creature?”

“Did it have a name?”

“As far as I know, it was a diligent commander whose name was rarely spoken. But men named it the Shadow of Angmar because it was faithful to the Witch-king.”

Mistril sighed and hid her head in between her hands, remembering the flash of memories she had when she reached for the sword.

It was her, dressed in armor with a heavy helmet on her head, hiding everything but her eyes. She was standing behind the Witch-king, calm as if nothing important or life changing was about to begin. He made her a sign and she was supposed to go after the heads of each army, but something happened.

Now, thinking about everything she remembered in the last years, she could understand why Thranduil was so doubtful.

“These marks on my wrists, they were done by Sauron.” She muttered, raising her head enough to catch glimpse of the fire. “I should be rotting somewhere, shouldn’t I? Because after all, I cannot die.”

Elrond could neither deny nor agree. It was clear to him from the beginning that something happened to her and darkness grasped her soul but he didn’t know how much and how deep Sauron’s manipulation reached inside her. He could see her light flicker once more and it needed a few minutes for it to regain its normal glow. Elrond stood there and watched, making sure her eyes won’t darken again.


	7. Chapter 7

Next day Mistril found herself be led by her legs in front of the mural again. She spent quite some time staring at it before she turned her attention on the sword. She didn’t dare approach it, though.

"That is the sword used to slay the Enemy. An old story you must have heard," Said a man with a voice that was both warm and objective.

Just a glance and Mistril knew that that person was neither bad nor making the best decisions. As he walked closer to her, she could see his grey attire which made him seem like a scrawny old man, his pointy hat that seemed to be too large for his head and his wizard rod which he was leaning onto after every step.

"You are the guest I heard about; Mithrandir, the wizard. They say you know more than you share." She said not taking a step to or from him. She just waited for the wizard to get next to her and when he did, she realized there was no real emotion in his eyes. He didn’t seem particularly interested in her either, not from what she could feel from standing close to him.

"It is unfortunate to know more and yet not know better. I'm afraid those are just rumors." He answered in a way that made her remember Gweluven. He used to speak so in times when he was lying. "I heard you came from Greenwood the Great, land of the wood elves."

"Indeed. Word travels fast."  Mistril said aware that years have passed and he might have been to Greenwood after she left.

"Faster than you can imagine."

"I suppose you have heard the rumors of men too about a wizard hiding in Dol Guldur. I know it has been long since this alleged problem surfaced but I heard elves speaking of it in the halls." She started, having heard rumors that reached even Rivendell.

"A necromancer, a wizard of men with powers given under more suspicious circumstances. Or it might as well be nothing." Mithrandir said leaning half of his weight on his staff. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes but it's been so long since then. It was silent as if I was in the eye of the storm. And yet, nothing happened." She answered growing worried for the wood elves. He seemed to have read her mind because he was quick to reply.

"Wood elves are witty fellows, spontaneous but brave. They won't suffer under their king. Thranduil is a fit ruler."

"Their king, who likes extravagance and doubts everything. Excuse me for not sharing your sympathy and trust." She said sarcastically, although her eyes seemed to glint differently from her words.

Mithrandir looked at her for a while before he smiled, his whole face sparkling with genuine amusement and kindness.

"There is more than you want to admit. Maybe not yet, maybe not soon, but you will figure it out."

Mistril listened closely to the wizard but didn’t look into his eyes; she chose to look at the sword instead. Everything he said was more or less relevant but it was so hard to decipher the in between meaning of his words. She watched him turn around and leave, as if he came only to probe the waters and see if she was worthy enough for a later meeting.

What the wizard really wanted to do was simply see her. He had heard of a Gondolindrim found in Greenwood and, to be sincere, he hoped it wasn’t her. Of course, he could not guess the Valar’s choices, especially her, and yet he couldn’t help but go along.

Elrond was waiting for the wizard outside, watching the sky as he thought how to confront the situation with Glorfindel. The warrior was committed to Mistril and it wasn’t all because of guilt.

“Have you talked to her?” Elrond asked sensing the wizard approach him.

“Yes. And I saw her, an image that I do not quite agree with if I am to give my sincere thoughts.”

“She asked me about Dagorlad and I told her the truth. She needs to know, Mithrandir. She can choose differently this time.” Elrond said, thinking first about Glorfindel, “She’s not alone anymore. Once her memories will clear up, I trust she will make the right decision. There must be a reason she fights for and we both know what that is.”

“I wonder if we think about the same reason, my friend. The Enemy is gone thus her consciousness is well but if those marks will whisper to her one day, then she won’t be able to control herself anymore.” The wizard said, worry flashing through his eyes.

“I thought about that too. Lady Galadriel could help her understand once she will remember and then-“Elrond stopped, glancing at the stables where Asfaloth seemed to listen intently to their discussion. “First, give it back to her.”

* * *

 

Mistril returned to her room and fell on her bed with a heavy sigh. The wizard's words were ringing in her ears and so was another, only its voice was faint. Every time she wanted to remember certain details about her past, her head would start aching. The furthest she was digging, the more intense it was growing until her attention was drawn to someplace else.

"Am I disturbing you?" Elrohir's face rose from behind the door, his dark hair falling on one side.

"No. You can enter." Mistril said as she rose and waited for him to sit next to her.

"I talked to my father and it seems there is an important message that has to be taken to Lothlorien. I'll have to go there with my brother and I wanted to ask if you'd like to come."  He said smiling boyishly, knowing her answer already.

"Lord Elrond knows about this?" she asked eyeing him.

"He will. You can stay if you want," he added nonchalantly.

"No." She said, quickly getting on her feet. "I'll go. I am curious about Lothlorien too."

"Alright. Don't take much with you because we will travel swiftly." Elrohir announced her before his sight suddenly fell on her lap.

Unconsciously, Mistril tried to hide her wrists but there were high chances he saw at least the **dark** part. Elrohir looked up at her and forced himself not to react although he would have liked to tell her it was alright.

Only, it wasn't much until Elrond himself caught Mistril on the balcony, looking at Rivendell longingly. Wind was blowing gently as she leaned on the stone rail with something in her hand.

"When my sons leave, you are to go with them. I trust you three will have much to talk about on your journey.” The wise elf said, light amusement flicking through his eyes. “But not too much I hope.”

"I met Mithrandir today and had an interesting conversation. He is a man of many secrets, isn’t he? He speaks in ways that can lead you to more meanings.” She started.

“He is a good man and he has lived through more years than many of us. Mithrandir will open the door and Lady Galadriel will aid you in your journey.”

“The journey of coming to my senses? We both know I have done terrible things before. I can’t remember them but these marks, they can become a threat, can’t they?” she asked feeling strong antipathy for the man that gave her a home.

“They can, they could lead to a real massacre but could at the same time bring you enlightenment. The decision is in your hands and I will accept any choice you make. Rivendell will always be your home, Glorfindel will always protect you and your friends will not abandon you. The world is at peace and so can you.” Elrond said, his voice urging her to open up her mind and heart and accept his kindness and hope.

But one glance and she could still see the cloaked figure on the side, looking at her expectantly. She looked at the piece of paper that she was grasping tightly in her hand, at the face of a young and pure Legolas that she drew in the last years. She really wanted to be at peace not just pretend to.

* * *

Before he left for what he said was a long and yet expectant journey, the grey wizard met Mistril on the stairs down to the gate, his mind and heart troubled.

"Have you thought about what Elrond told you?" He asked her once she reached him.

"I should have imagined you two counseled each other in the matter. Lord Elrond promises much but only time can prove if he keeps them." Her tone made Mithrandir’s eyes darken but only for a moment. The moonlight made his eyes twinkle in the night as if his blue eyes were two stars. He was a wise man but he had to choose his words carefully as her light flickered once more.

“Mistril, Gondolin fell a very long time ago and yet no one knows what you could have done in this time. Elrond doesn’t know much about you, no one does-“

“And you do?” she asked, her light flickering even more as her anger was fired by the faint voice in her mind.

"There is a story, true or false I do not know for I haven't seen it with my own eyes, about a creature that kills quickly and silently. It vanished after the Enemy's defeat but it didn't die. It was a creature created by hatred and years of long torture. In my long journeys I have found this-" he said and uncovered a hilt. He gave it to her and she drew the sword out of it with wide eyes. The blade, the details on the hilt, the way it felt in her hand, everything was perfect.

"It's mine, isn't it?" She asked her eyes still locked on the blade. It was such an amazing feeling; she could feel this surge of electricity go into her body. Swaying it a bit, her eyes brightened and her whole figure enlightened. “This sword is just like the ones my father used to make.”

"Daewen," Mithrandir called out the name that quickly calmed down her excitement, "I’m sure you heard this name before. For the Enemy, you were Daewen but the rest of the world knew you as the Shadow of Angmar. The force that rose against her kin because they forgot her and let her drown into the darkness." He explained watching every twitch and every jolt of her hands.

"So it's true then. I'm a monster. I am the monster that murdered elves, men, dwarves and who knows how many others." After few of her memories returned, she knew she had done evil deeds but now that someone else voiced out that theory, it felt so much more real. “Daewen. He even gave me a name.” she choked on the last word, her eyes tearing up.

"And yet you are here." Mithrandir added yet not sounding very warm at the moment.

"They sent me back for punishment." She replied remembering the words that have been echoing in her mind ever since she woke up. “I am not welcomed in Valinor and I was sent back from the Halls of Manos. It’s not all because of the dark fire but because of my own sins.”

"I do not think your punishment has begun just yet. With this sword in hand you may remember everything."

"Do I want to?" She asked looking into his eyes. "When I'll go to sleep tonight, will I regret my past or will I return to it?"

"You choose." He said before he gave her a last smile and left.


	8. Chapter 8

Left all alone, Mistril returned to the Hall of Fire and placed her sword in front of her before she sat down.

“Deldhin…” she muttered the sword’s name.

It came so naturally that it scared her. It seemed there was an invisible force that was drawing her to the sword to the point she couldn’t control herself anymore. She held it in her hand and felt excitement before her sight became blurry.

The sword fell out of her grasp onto the floor. The sound was loud but every motion seemed to move incredibly slowly in Mistril's eyes. And then something happened; it took over her mind and her green orbs turned black. It was time to remember everything.

_Once the orcs hit Mistril they took her with them, to a cave that was not as dark as it smelled of sweat and rotten meat. Mistril opened her eyes to a sight she did not like at all: she was in what looked like half a cell, because the other half was used to store dead bodies. The smell itself and the dirty surroundings were enough to make her want to throw up. But she didn't have time. She tried to get up but something was keeping her down. They chained her neck as if she was an animal, and the chain was firmly stuck into the ground so she could only get on her knees before she'd be pulled down._

_"Well, well, our doll woke up. How ya feeling princess?" said an orc that had eyes so wide that it looked like they were going to spontaneously bulge from his sockets._

_"That ain't no princess. D'you know, nobody came to protect her. But she put up quite a fight, filthy little elf." Another commented before he spat at her. It didn't reach her, thankfully._

_"Good fo us! We've got a new plaything you lot! We won't get bored soon with this one!"_

_That was preposterous. Mistril glared at them but she couldn't do much under the circumstances._

_They didn't do anything to her for a few days, mostly because they were fighting with each other. The food they threw at her was not worth the bother to try and she barely drunk the water they gave her which smelled like they cleaned themselves in it before._

_But then things changed and she could feel it in their demeanor too. New orcs came to the cave and the space diminished. The new orcs had a leader, or what looked like to be a warrior that was more powerful than the rest. They were talking in orcish mostly but she caught a few names, one of which was this leader's. Grommok was his name and he was larger, fitter and from the looks of it, with more brains than the rest. Orcs are usually very brutal, standoffish to each other in weird ways and yet this one was different. There was real malice and hatred in his eyes, especially when they fell over her._

_She was sleeping when she woke up at the hands of someone grasping her hair and dragging her out of the cell. She passed him and saw his eyes glinting as a sign of what was going to happen. She shuddered as her scalp started to sting badly at the force. She was dragged into another part of the cave that she hadn't seen before, into this space in front of numerous other orcs. They were yelling at her, spitting and whatnot and the noise only grew when a huge black creature stepped towards her. He was an orc but he was twice her size and his armor only made him larger._

_"Fight! Fight!" They said and Mistril swallowed nervously._

_Seeing how she had nothing to fight with, she tried to defend herself by running. It wasn't going to work for long; she knew it from how annoyed the viewers looked._

_"Kill her, Ug! Make her scream!" The orcs yelled._

_Mistril's eyes widened at the encouragements. She was still young and inexperienced in fighting. All those sparing games with Glorfindel's army men and her brothers were not enough for a fight against a creature like Ug. And yet she couldn't help but remember those happy times and the safety of her home. Getting caught up into the past, she lost focus and Ug hit her really hard against her face before he pushed her down and punched her several times. However, he didn't punch her in the face but in the liver, and then kicked her randomly. He stopped when the orcs started to boo because really there was no fun in a one sided fight._

_So they dragged her back into her cell and let her there in agony. She had some ribs broken and there were many bruises forming on her once fair skin._

_But from that day on, it just became worse. Every time after breakfast they'd wake her up by different means, mostly with dirty cold water, and get her out for torture. It started easy with fights and then it became smarter, with Grommok watching or himself inflicting pain onto her body. It was horrible. It seemed one memory in particular surfaced, one that was worse than any other._

_She was half dressed, her hair was dirty and tangled and she hadn't had a bath in a long time. She was sleeping when she woke up because she couldn't breathe. Once she opened her eyes the elleth realized someone was trying to pull her out by her legs and forgot about the chain around her neck. She choked and kicked the idiot when finally he realized what was wrong. From the cell they placed Mistril into an obscure part of the cave where they chained her hands to the wall. It was cold and damp which made her think outside was winter. Actually, time became irrelevant to her. She couldn't even remember when she last saw the sun or smelled something clean._

_But those thoughts vanished when she felt pain go down her back. She got whipped with something very hard. At first it felt like rope but then someone brought something metallic. It hurt so much, she screamed so loud that she fainted. She woke up when they poured water on her, her back stinging like hell. They continued like that for some time before she could barely move off the ground. And the Grommok entered the cell...and he spoke._

_"So sad. Nobody's coming after you." He started in his low voice. "_

_"You don't know anything." She hissed glaring up at him._

_"You've been here for more than a century, burzsnaga (dark slave). The world moved on and forgot you ever existed." He whispered, sounding pleased with himself._

_Mistril's eyes widened in shock._

_"No. No, you're lying. This is just another game for you." She whimpered when Grommok pushed harshly on her back. Her wounds were opening up and she knew it was just a matter of time until she'll have to fight again some warrior orc. "Let me die then. Just kill me."_

_"Where would be the fun then? You've been such a nice plaything, breaking right in front of me." He grabbed her by the back of her messy hair and pulled her up a bit. "That's what you are, you filthy elf. You are our punching bag."_

_"He will come and save me." She hissed both in annoyance and in pain. "Glorfindel will-"_

_Suddenly Grommok started to laugh loudly. It was such a hateful sound. It made her hands twitch._

_And then it happened. The day came when they came and took her and chained her to the same wall. Voices were yelling at her but she could hardly hear them. Something hard and cold touched her back before it hit her making her scream. It happened a few more times and her screams became louder until she could hardly keep herself awake. It wasn't just that moment but all those that preceded. She has been there for so long that she couldn't remember how her language sounded or how the sun felt on her skin. Water and food were nice dreams for her but there was always a gleam of hope in her eyes. Maybe he will save her. Maybe her hero will come and ease the pain. But darkness was lurking in her heart. Or maybe he won't, it said. Maybe he is dead or maybe he doesn't care about her. Why would he? He was a lord while she was the blacksmith's daughter. She was nothing. Those thoughts ate her soul bit by bit. One final hit sent her into unconsciousness but the orcs were not yet satisfied. She felt muddy water being splashed over her face and she did wake up but she didn't open her eyes._

_"Wake her up wake her up! Come on! I want my turn!" One filthy orc shouted._

_"Wait in line! We have enough time. She won't go anywhere." Another said._

_Those words stung. They were right and she was doomed to an infinite torture. Death was too good at that point. No, she was angry. She was broken, disappointed and her elvish light diminished to the point it transformed into something else. Mistril's once deep green eyes became pitch black and she lost all there was that made her an elf._

_She killed every orc she could place her hands on, starting with Ug. She left Grommok last before she made him suffer the same way before finally grabbing his eyeballs out and forcing one into his mouth, watching as he choked on it. There was no consciousness and no regret. She was free._

_She killed many orcs and fought just as many until she was brought before the Witch-king of Angmar. He was still human, but his soul was already taunted by darkness and magic._

_She was like a wild animal, squirming in her binds._

_"I may find you better work than mass murder." He said, looking at her as if at a pet. "Take her and cloth her. I have work for this one."_

_He gave her time to perfect in the art of sneaking and killing before he literally sent her to do his dirty work. That was how she ended up in front of Sauron as well. She became a force of the Enemy and he gave her something in return, knowing that with black eyes or not, Mistril could easily turn her back to him. So he bound her..._

_He held tightly onto her wrists before he grasped them tightly. He chuckled as a surge of pain ran up her body and she screamed. It was a different kind of pain, one that didn't leave scars but felt like fire in her veins and it was coming from him._

_"Rise, Daewen and do not fear me for I am the source of both your life and death."_

_Now that she could remember clearly, it did not sound like a threat but like a baptism. He was giving her a new life, a new name and a new purpose. She became Daewen and she marched for him on Dagorlad._

_She killed many in the war and she witnessed with cold eyes as Oropher was murdered. Orcs were scared to ask her anything, remembering the massacre that she caused several years back. It felt like yesterday but it was more than 1000 years ago. She spent a century alone as a prisoner and the rest as what she had always wanted to become: a warrior in a strong army._

_The change that she was curious of, the one that changed her view over her life and brought light back into her eyes was there in Dagorlad. She fought Elrond at one point, injuring but not killing him. She fought Faervel as well, she saw Thranduil from afar and she murdered more than 100 elves only that day. And then she saw him, Glorfindel. The hero that didn't come to her aid, the one she forgot about because he probably forgot about her too. He was there and he was a force of good. He was blinding and that strong elf light reached her soul and something in her mind snapped._

_She ran away and forfeited the battle. Mistril's eyes became grey and she sneaked out of there._

_The rest of the memories were not as important. She lived in secrecy and never spent more than a week in one place. She became a hired hitman for most of the time but she also worked as a blacksmith. She abandoned her own sword, Deldhin, because it was a reminder of how many lives she took. Mistril had a new purpose now and that was to stay hidden. She was going to Esgaroth indeed on that day, to get paid for a job she had done. She never made it because a pack of goblins intercepted her, knowing exactly where to find her. The rest, as they say, is history._

Mistril's eyes cleared up and she fell on her knees. Only when she touched her cheeks she realized she has been crying for a while. Two arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a warm hug and she started to cry again.

"I'm a monster. I'm a monster." She repeated again and again until words became hiccups.

"It's alright. It's not your fault, it's mine." Glorfindel murmured softly as he stroked her hair.

She finally remembered and it was far worse than she imagined. Her punishment will probably be as big as her sins.

Next morning, Glorfindel went into Elrond's study with a worried expression. He spent the whole night rocking Mistril softly in his arms as she cried. When she eventually fell asleep, he put her in his room just so he'd be sure she won't wake up and cry again.

"I suppose she remembered." Elrond asked looking up from his documents. "How is she?"

 "She's tortured by the memories. I've never seen someone so broken before." Glorfindel said as he sat across the lord of Rivendell.

"It's only normal. The life Mistril led may seem a story for us but for her, it was torture. We will never be able to understand the horrors she saw and the pain she felt." Elrond said.

"What really happened? Was Mithrandir the one to awake her mind?" Glorfindel asked worried that the grey wizard might have done something to her.

"It was a gift he gave her. A sword made by her in the depths of Mordor." Elrond answered, glancing down at his documents before he pushed them aside, giving his entire attention to the once lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

"She forged it? Where the ring was forged?" he asked not quite believing the coincidence.

"Indeed."

"Where was it found?"

"I do not know and neither does Mithrandir. It was by chance he came upon it. Its name led to its creator. Deldhin led to Daewen and Daewen is Mistril." Elrond explained.

"Do you believe she will recuperate?" Glorfindel asked after a moment of silence.

"She is wise enough to understand the importance of her memories. Now, the hardest part is to learn and fight her bindings."

"Lady Galadriel will help?"

"I do not know for sure if any force could help. It will eventually come down to her will power."


	9. Chapter 9

_There was once someone smart, a man that used to work for the Steward of the Gondor, a scholar. His name was Fred and he was interested in alchemy although his work was to copy down information from other languages, especially elvish, into his own. He was amazed with all the information he found from elves about health, economy, war, power but he couldn't quite use them for his own. He was limited to his own species and it drove him mad. Then, one day he took initiative and during a feast for their visitor, Saruman the Wise, Fred asked him for a favour. But the wizard denied him such knowledge and so the human decided he should take matters into his own hands. Only, elf magic does not work for the wicked human soul and the results were disastrous._

_He would repress his anger every day and lash out every night, like an animal. He was forced to move as far as possible by his peers and so he was left all alone. But one night, after the earth shook under Sauron's defeat, he was surprised to have a visitor._

_"Help me. I need to hide." It was a person drenched in sweat and dirt, dressed in only a dark tunic, bare feet and an overall aspect of someone who has been abused._

_Fred let her in, but only because he noticed her ears. She was an elf. As soon as she sat down, he brought her water to drink. His hands were trembling with delight, finally meeting a woman that could help him use the elven magic to become immortal._

_But the elleth was not keen on helping anyone. She rested for a day before she decided to move forward._

_"Stay. It's still dangerous outside." Fred said with eyes wide and creepy. His hands seemed to want to reach her continuously, as if he could get her soul. The elleth needed one look at him to know what he was._

_"I can see into your mind, a man whose desire is eternal life. But nothing can give you what you wish because men are weak and easy to manipulate. I have seen your kind giving their souls for power." She answered, her grey eyes striking the man. He was left speechless for a moment before he screamed after her._

_"How dare you! I saw your hands, you have been marked with the dark fire! You scum! You left your kin for power, just like a poor, treachorous man."_

_Those were his final words as the elleth cut his neck with one sway of her sword. That came as a shock- how easy she could kill one loud mouthed human._

Those images drifted away and changed into the calming sight of water falling. Mistril couldn't help but let her past consume her. There was a cliff from which one would die instantly if he were to fall and that idea has been swirling in her mind for a while. 

"Are you alright?" Elladan asked approching her slowly. Mistril hadn't said anything ever since they left.

"No." She answered admiting what she believed. "What if I fall off that cliff? I'll probably die instantly."

Elladan's eyes narrowed at her and quickly surveyed the sight. It was better to be safe rather than sorry so he had to speak to his brother later and inform him of her thoughts.

"Don't frown. It won't matter if I die since I will be sent back. Again and again and again." She added, turning to the dark haired elf with a forced smile. 

"I do hope once we arrive in Lorien you will stop thinking so low of yourself. I'm sure my father told you before but the past doesn't matter anymore. It's what you do from now on that makes a difference." Elladan explained, his dark long hair swinging in the air.

Mistril smiled at the wiseness of such a fragile creature. Elves born with the choice of immortality were rare and she only met them briefly before. But she was living with the wisest of them all, he returned her memories and still welcomed her into his land. He trusted her with his sons and with choosing the right path to Lothlorien. It was quite an honor and guilt was eating her soul away.

They walked for several more days when Elrohir noticed how drawn Mistril was to the water. She'd prefer to stand there rather than near the fire and she'd always touch it softly as if she was caressing the surface before placing her feet in. 

"Now that you remember, why do you think you were found in Greenwood?" 

"I'm sure the Elvenking is wondering the same thing." She said chuckling when she imagined his face. "I was going to Esgaroth. I had to bring a sword taken by orcs. They followed me all the way from the mountain thinking that I stole it when the truth was that they were the real thieves. I killed all of them but one managed to wound me. My eyes and my hands changed, I survived that battle because of this darkness inside."

"There are many ways in which you can repent. Lady Galadriel will guide you." Elrohir said, looking at her but not quite seeing much since she was staring ahead.

Elrohir didn't notice but from the moment he started the conversation, her mind opened up and her soul reached far, so far into Greenwood, and into the mind of the elf that changed her life. 

The Elvenking was enjoying silence after a busy day talking with his ministers about the upcoming winter when he suddenly got this chill up his body and he started to dream with his eyes open. He needed to lean against the wall because the force of so many memories was overwhelming. And then he started to see everything, welcoming the flood of information.

"He was right, all along." He heard her voice although she was speaking them to someone else. "I'm nothing but a tool that the Enemy can use, no matter who that enemy is."

"I'm not so sure. There must be something to fight for. You have Glorfindel now and to me it seems like he already made a difference in your destiny." Elrohir added, his words sounding so much like his father.

* * *

It was curious how everyone believed that her salvation was found into Glorfindel. Lying back on the grass, she placed her hands under her head and looked at the starry sky. Closing her eyes, she could still picture the moment she realized she could cling onto Glorfindel. She was young...

_"Mistril! I have an errand for you!" Her father's voice rung through the walls of their home. The store was downstairs while the top levels were reserved for the family._

_"Is it for the palace?" Her voice came back instantly._

_"Yes, it is." Was his answer as a knowing smile appeared on his face. He could hear her come down the stairs, excitement and anticipation running through her veins. "Now, why is that you look so eager to do errands for the palace but bribe your sister to do the others?"_

_Mistril was younger, her face held the same innocence as Legolas and her hair was long and red. She did look slightly different, brighter and the way she moved seemed to be quicker as if one could literally see life flowing through her._

_"I enjoy the courtyard of the palace. It's a beautiful place."_

_"The courtyard is where lord Glorfindel likes to spend his time." Valdaglerion always suspected his daughter had a crush on the hero but he never said anything about it._

_"Do you want me to get it there in time or not?" She asked grumpily, hiding her face behind her hair._

_Gondolin was a beautiful city, always covered in flowers. The houses were all kinds of white and beige while the roof was always yellow, as if to attract the sunlight and make them seem like every house was a star shining brightly._

_Once arrived, she walked up the stairs into the palace and smiled at the elves working inside. There were many healers coming in and out and she loved how they always seemed to glow with kindness. But of course, nobody could rival Glorfindel. Once she entered the palatine courtyard, she couldn't help but feel her heart beat faster. He was standing with his back at her on a chair so she walked to him, grasping the sword in her hand tightly._

_"I'm here, lord Glorfindel. I brought you the sword." She said softly, suddenly shy in front of such a personality._

_The man rose and placed his book aside before he turned to face her. Unlike what the memory was about, and she knew it definitely happened like she remembered, the person that faced her was not Glorfindel. Her whole body tensed and she lost sight of where she was. To be frank, it didn't matter because she realized once his face came into her mind that something was changing._

Mistril opened her eyes and had to cover them immediately after. It was day, she fell asleep while taking a walk through her memories. 

"Are you awake? We should go. If we maintain this pace we'll be there by the day after tomorrow." Elrohir said while packing his stuff. Elladan was still sleepig though which made his brother kick him lightly. "Time to wake up, sleeping beauty." 

"Yeah, yeah. 5 more minutes." Elladan mumbled but it was clear his brother won't have it so he kicked him harder. "Stop being the violent one, brother!" 

"Am I really? I want to sleep in a bed as soon as possible." 

But Mistril was still in the aftermath of her dream. The change was sudden but it made her heart still beat out of rhythm. It continued on for the rest of the trip although she did not dream anymore.

* * *

Entering Lothlorien was like entering Gondolin in a way: it was magical. 

Lothlorien was a place so peaceful that even stepping in the forest made Mistril feel this amazing surge of relief coming over her. It wasn't Gondolin, it wasn't home but it was the elvish land that felt the most like home to her. As they continued their journey to the capital city, the golden leaves drew Mistril's attention and made her gasp in awe. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Elrohir asked noticing her sparkling eyes. It was rare when those deep green eyes of hers were so full of emotions. 

"Wait until we get to Caras Galadhon. I've been here before and it still leaves me speechless." Elladan added smiling with contempt and pride.

Mistril could hardly listen to the twins with how much beauty surrounded her. The trees were thick and lively, not quite like the ones in Greenwood, which were silent before her. These golden trees were murmuring, were so alive that she could feel them pulsating under her feet. 

And then she heard _her_. The Lady was watching her walk into her land, knowing who she is and who she was. The forest opened up to them and welcomed the three visitors. As soon as they got in the city, Mistril faced the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, after Gondolin of course. Two people walked to them, one elleth that looked so pure in her beauty and an elf that was visibly a leader in every aspect. 

"Welcome to Lothlorien, Mistril of Gondolin." The ellon started, "I am Celeborn, the master of this land. Lady Galadriel already told us about you but fear not, there is no judgement." 

Mistril nodded in respect before she turned to the elleth. She smiled kindly and looked straight into her eyes with such knowledge that Mistril swore she saw Elrond in her eyes. 

"Arwen Undomiel is my name. I'm pleased to see my brothers have not disturbed your peace on the way here." She said a glint of bemusement in her eyes. "Please follow me. I will show you around until the lady is ready to see you."

"So, you are Elrond's daughter," Mistril begun the conversation as soon as they remained alone. Celeborn took the brothers inside as they had much to talk, probably about her too.

"And you are the light in lord Glorfindel's eyes." Arwen replied making Mistril flustered by the given title.

"I do not know why I receive these statuses because really, there is nothing but disappointment and sorrow attributed to my person. I'm not sure if you know, but I am-" She was cut up immediately.

"Daewen. I know. The Shadow of Angmar stepped inside the one place where darkness cannot enter. That is enough proof that Lady Galadriel knows what's in your heart." Arwen said softly, smiling encouragingly at the newcomer as they walked up the stairs to a platform that reminded Mistril of the one in the halls of the Elvenking. It was wider and it was built into the trees, which was indeed a wonder for someone whose home was regular. 

"Guilt. I'm sure she sees it. But I've been thinking a lot about these marks. They appear harmless for now but the darkness has not vanished from Middle Earth. Once it rises again, I will become your enemy." Mistril admitted, licking her lips anxiously. She could already see the crowds turning against her as soon as those eyes will turn completely black.

Arwen smiled softly and touched Mistril's wrist gently, as if she could sense what the older elleth was imagining. The touch was so light that it felt like a leaf brushed her hand. 

"Do not be afraid. Trust who you are now. They sent you back for a reason." Arwen stated, her gaze strong and firm. She was a soft version of her father, and if Elrond could so easily see through Mistril than Arwen could too.

"They sent me back in order to punish me." Mistril muttered with dejection.


	10. Chapter 10

Legolas was usually a happy elf. He had the life of a beloved prince, although that did not mean people had never gotten angry with him. It was nothing new to have him tag along if there was something he was interested in but never once did he show any refined calling into forging weapons. 

"My prince, maybe you should step back now. It's dangerous." The blacksmith said, more annoyed than anything. 

For the past few years, Legolas became interested in forging. It was flattering at first, mostly because he was watching with eager eyes and admiration. But then Legolas returned the next day and the next and so on and the crouched, rather tanned elf grew weary of his presence. 

"I just want to watch, not interfere. I want to see the work put into sword making. Is it different from before?" He asked, amongst many other curiosities. He always asked about swords.

"I do not know what you want me to say. Every blacksmith has its own personal creative ways but the materials are the same as they have always been." 

"Can you place dark magic into a sword?" Legolas asked after a moment of silence.

The blacksmith sighed before he moved the prince out of the way. He had to forge more than one little sword that his prince wished for so fervently.

"I guess."

"Prince Legolas, the King would like to have a word with you." A guard came in and announced. Legolas looked up at him and nodded, not noticing the relieved expression on the blacksmith's face.

"What's with him? Still not bored of coming around?" Asked Miluinir's older brother, who looked like a rougher version of him. He did look like he could fit in with the guards if he were to dress in the suit. 

"He's asking me about swords all day long. He expects me to make him one, I believe. But I cannot understand what kind; he always asks about magic. There is no magic in our business...it's only hard work." The blacksmith said grumpily before he returned to his work.

* * *

"You want me to go on patrol from now on? I thought you disliked that idea." Legolas said once his father threw the announcement. 

"Then tell me, what is that you find so interesting in our blacksmith?" Thranduil asked leaning back in his chair. He was in the library, looking over the maps that Faervel had brought. 

"Mistril never quite liked our swords. She found them unbalanced." 

"Again you mention that elleth? Time passed and she did not visit once. I'm sure she is well in Imladris." Thranduil commented, suddenly feeling irritated. 

"Don't you miss her at all? She seemed to enjoy terrorizing you." Legolas said smiling at the memory. 

Mistril was a fan of war, no matter against who or why. She seemed to enjoy defying the king but never enough to get him angry. Thranduil quite liked seeing her get annoyed on her part but it was mostly him that was losing his calm in a conversation with her.

"Mistril is gone, Legolas." 

"You make it sound as if she were dead." Legolas noted. "Can't I go visit instead of joining Tudor?" 

"No." 

"Aren't you curious how she is? If she remembered?" 

"...no." Thranduil said, although it sounded like he gave it some thought before. 

As soon as his son left, the king walked to the his meeting room where he found Faervel. The warrior was busy finding information about everything around the kingdom. Faervel was the eyes and ears of the king, he was the trusted man that would never think twice about sacrifice. That was Faervel, since the first moment Thranduil saw him and not once did he disappoint. 

"What news did Tudor bring about Dol Guldur?" 

"It's silent."

"And what about our guards that were supposed to return with provisions from Esgaroth?"

"They arrived this morning. Orcs have been seen around but our patrols have taken care of that problem." Faervel added seeing how Thranduil was pacing around, not satisfied. "Are you worried about Legolas? He's well trained and can survive a minor attack, if that would even happen." 

"It's too silent up there. I am not complaining but the wind has changed lately. It's suffocating." Thranduil admited, trusting Faervel will take his words very seriously. "It's been silent ever since Glorfindel's visit."

Faervel raised an eyebrow and immediately thought of the elleth they kept safe in their kingdom. 

"Do you think they might keep so silent because they still believe the dark fire is here? Or is it because she left?" 

"There are rumors between men, aren't there?" Thranduil was curious what other parts of Greenwood believed. 

"They say there are giant spiders coming from the fortress. But we haven't encountered any yet." 

"Did Tudor enter the fortress or did he look from afar?" Thranduil asked knowing that Tudor disliked even the sight of the fortress.

"Nobody wants to enter but we all know there is dark magic at work. A Necromancer, men say." Faervel said, knowing well that if he were to ask Mistril, she'd have a different opinion. 

As soon as Faervel walked out, he met Gweluven who was on the way to the king himself with a list of medicine he needed for the palace. 

"Faervel, is the king tense? He's been drinking more wine and staying up late a lot more often." Gweluven started.

"It's that damn place. It's draining all of us," 

"Indeed. The trees are growing too fast and the forest is closing in. It's best to keep inside the kingdom, you should inform the rest not to venture far." 

Faervel nodded and intended to leave when Gweluven added, "Mistril saw something, didn't she? You've been on alert ever since she left." 

"Let me worry about that."

* * *

Arwen accompanied Mistril around the woods of Lothlorien. The golden trees seemed to ease her mind and she smiled a few times at the beauty of it. 

Closing her eyes, Mistril remembered the times spent with her brothers, the way they'd tease her about her hobbies. 

" _You're not bad, Mistril. But you still cannot beat me," Her older brother taunted her chuckling while manoeuvring his sword._

_"I will. And when that happens, I'll make it so you will never forget it." She said, her age still very young. Her eyes sparkled with wit and bravery, two characteristics that followed her throughout her life._

_"Such big promises from such a small elfling. You'll have to grow taller first, Mistril."_

_The truth was that her brothers were taller than most, taking after their father. Valdaglerion was as tall as Glorfindel and although the two came from very different backgrounds, they were noble in their own ways. Mistril was still short next to them but she was visibly taller than most elleths her age._

_"I will become a warrior and I will fight in wars, alongside you and lord Glorfindel." She couldn't help blush at the mention of the ellon._

_"You have big dreams, indeed, little sister. I cannot wait to see how many of them you can accomplish."_

Mistril opened her eyes and chuckled to herself. Memories of her peaceful childhood were a lot fewer than the dark times she had lived as an adult but they were precious. They were enough to keep her sane. 

"Are you remembering something?" Arwen asked seeing how she laughed.

"I had two brothers who always got me riled up. I wish they were still alive, here with you."

"I have two of my own. I can spare them if you'd like." She joked of course but it made both of them laugh. 

"I had a sister too, Lirneth. She was an elegant being, with rosy cheeks and soft eyes just like our mother's. She despised war and violence in general. She was a musician, a dancer, maybe she would have become a healer since she had a way with words that could aid anyone." She smiled as she envisioned her sister's face in front of her. Lirneth was smiling, her red hair swaying in the wind as she stood there in her innocence. Mistril reached out and the image vanished but instead appeared the face of Arwen. 

"You have been given a second chance. You should embrace it." Arwen commented.

"I should but I can't."

"Did they tell you what your punishment is?" Arwen asked curiously.

"No. At first I believed coming back with no memories of who I am was it but that proved to feel more like a blessing. Remembering is torture but still I do not think it begun. I'll try to fight against evil if it returns but I am afraid, Arwen."

"You don't have to. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel will teach you not to be afraid of the enemy or of yourself."

* * *

It was already dawn when Arwen went back for she still had her own work to do. Mistril was sleepy so she jumped into a tree and rested there with her eyes closed. Nature was so calm in Lorien that it soothed her soul. It seemed like the world was so feeble compared to this land. 

A pang hurt her mind, a sudden knock against the door of her soul. The magic used to fortify the walls of her mind was ancient and strong thus not even Galadriel could enter it. But Mistril felt the presence of one above her and she opened her eyes. 

"Lady Galadriel...you have been watching me ever since I arrived. I can only hope I did not disappoint you." Mistril started, jumping down in front of the lady. She bowed her head in respect and noticed Galadriel watching with wary eyes. 

"I am told you remembered your past and you have acknowledged the dangers of the future." The serene elleth begun, her blue eyes searching answers in Mistril's soul. "Your light flickers, doesn't it?"

"I spent a majority of my adulthood in Angmar. Darkness filled me mind and soul and I could escape only by dying again." 

"Have you escaped? Your wrists say otherwise." Galadriel said her eyes going down to the marks. She frowned as she noticed how clear they were. "How am I to trust you?"

"You cannot. I'm not promising anything for I know I am a danger to everyone around me. But the enemy is gone and as long as he remains so, I believe I can think for my own."

Galadriel's blue eyes, so clear and wise, moved from Mistril's hands up to her face and she watched her. She watched the twitches of her lip, the frown of her brows, the short orange hair that was given to her from the Valar, especially to have her marked as a washed off elleth. They had plans for her and they were not being merciful.

"Come with me. I have to show you something." She said eventually. 

Walking back into the elven city, it did not feel as foreign as the time she stepped in Greenwood. It was different now, she knew where she was and what was her place. Mistril wondered if she could still speak back to Thranduil after she learned how many of his kin she killed. She did not lie when she told him she met two incredibly noble kings...one was her own, the King Turgon that Glorfindel bowed as well. And the other was the one she had seen in the war. Oropher was just as bright and royal as Gil-galad on the battlefield but he died as a sacrifice. She was so close when the orcs killed him and she felt satisfied, an emotion that now brings her shame.

Galadriel led Mistril into a small garden. It was calm and magical, a place where she was sure her sister would have loved to play her harp and sing. In the middle was silently standing a basin like none Mistril had seen. Galadriel walked around to the other side and invited Mistril to look. 

Approaching the basin, the Gondolindrim could feel fear slowly crawl up her spine and just as if a bolt of electricity struck the spot in front of her, she stopped and froze. There was so much anger cascading over her being, so many memories that she did not want to remember here and now. Mistril needed to invoke her bravery in front of death just to continue what looked like a simple task. Once she stepped in front of it and looked down at the water, her jaw tensed.

Memories appeared: her will subdued by darkness in the caves of Angmar, her body trampled upon day after day by orcs and the saviour under the form of Sauron. It was painful but she had to endure it. And then the image shifted and she found herself looking into the grey eyes of a stubborn elf who didn't trust anyone and anything but his people and his own mind. Her eyes widened at what came next and out of surprise she raised her head and faced Galadriel. 

"I cannot see into your mind, it is enforced with walls I cannot pass. But I saw what you saw in the water and I know there is hope, even for you."  As she spoke, Galadriel's eyes brightened as if at last she welcomed Mistril into her land.

"What is this?" Mistril asked not at all touched by Galadriel's softened expression. "What did you make me do?"

"I showed you what needed to be shown. You must forget the past, forgive yourself and live towards what has been laid before you." She explained.

Mistril sighed heavily as she realized what her punishment was. She couldn't believe how deeply it was going to hurt her. How could the Valar plan such a nasty ploy for someone like her? Someone who had never felt the shivers of love.


	11. Chapter 11

Houses in Lothlorien were like a river, flowing from one side to the other, some high up closer to the sky while others below, closer to the ground. The lights at night were just as amazing as the stars shining upon them. The house that welcomed Mistril was [Eloen](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/96/89/b5/9689b5288516712600f9a4fa2271f628.jpg)'s, younger sister of Illion. It was situated somewhere in the middle, not as high as Arwen's but safe from the danger of the ground. It had a little balcony that oversaw a pond and much like in Rivendell, Mistril found comfort and joy in that corner.

It was a rare sight. The orange haired elleth was working away, sketching the face of an elf with short red hair and eyes so green that it looked like nature was talking through him. He had a smile that could soften up anyone and a hair clasp above his right ear. She smiled as she contoured his chin, her heart crying although her eyes could not.

"Is he someone you met in Imladris?" Eloen asked, sitting next to her guest.

Mistril glanced at her and realized she was the same age when Gondolin was attacked and she was taken by orcs. Eloen was very young but her expression seemed to be stuck into a frown. Her long hair was cascading over her shoulders and her eyes were the colour of a bright sunny sky.

"No, this is my older brother, [Elhadron](https://langefrisuren.club/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Gespeicherte-Fotos-86-Fotos.jpg). He died a long time ago, in battle. An orc cut his head off right in front of me."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Eloen said, her blue eyes filling with pity. 

"He used to spare with me when I was young. I cannot remember doing much in my youth except training to become a warrior." Her smile dropped as she remembered what was her reason to fight back then. "I never thought about what would happen if I ever made it into Glorfindel's army." 

"Lord Glorfindel, the Balrog slayer?" Eloen asked her eyes widening. "I have heard about him and his courage. He was sent back by the Valar after he sacrificed his life to save his people." She said, her enthusiasm overflowing and eyes sparkling even more than before. 

Mistril did not mirror the respect and joy that Eloen held for a person she did not meet. 

"Elves from every land admire him. He is a brave, loyal and powerful elf and he is of noble blood. Anyone would bath in the honor of being his friend." Mistril said, her voice growing colder as she remembered her time in the caves. 

"You sound like you resent him." 

"I do. He forgot about me and I had to throw myself into the hands of the only person who reached out towards me. If only it was someone, anyone, but a human." 

"Is that why you are in Lorien? Lord Celeborn told me not to ask you question about your past but I couldn't help myself when I saw you. Your light is fading." Eloen admitted, her honesty making Mistril glance at her wrists. Eloen did not notice them but it was only a matter of time. 

"I came with Arwen's brothers from Rivendell on a task from their father. I am not sure what it really is but I am happy I came. This place makes me feel like home." She said and smiled, her eyes sparkling.

"I'm glad." Eloen said before her eyes fell on Mistril's drawing. "I'm sure your brother would have been proud of what you have become."

Although Eloen was only trying to comfort the lonely elleth, Mistril's light flickered once more.

That night, Mistril lied in bed with her eyes wide open as she thought about what she saw in the basin. Could that really be her future? Falling in love only to know she will never be loved back? Why couldn't she live in the same solitude she has been living so far? If that was indeed her punishment, or part of it, maybe she should change it by choosing another path. She's been away for a long time and hadn't seen him in over 100 years so maybe the future was going to change. 

"I wonder what else they discovered in Dol Guldur..." she mumbled before she closed her eyes and smiled. "I wonder how Legolas is." The prince could always bring out the best in her. 

* * *

Faervel was stressed out. He has been pacing in his office for more than half an hour, worried for what was happening around the kingdom. Worse was having Legolas patrol towards the south, where a pack of orcs had been seen lurking.

"Lord Faervel, they're back!" A guard barged in and announced. Faervel followed him out and went straight into the entrance hall. Tudor and Hathelwen came first and Legolas not far behind, looking a bit dirty but untouched by any weapon.

"What happened?"

"We were patrolling the western border when we were cornered by spiders. They have approached the elven path, sir. They are all around us and it seems the source is somewhere in the south." Tudor briefed him in. Farvel turned to Legolas expectantly.

"The trees are silent. The air became thick and the forest is closing in, trying to protect itself. Unfortunately, more and more wicked creatures are coming from the fortress." He explained. "We should send someone to check what exactly is there." He added, his voice filled with hope that he will be the chosen one.

But Faervel didn't mutter a word afterwards. He locked himself in his office and looked over the map of the forest, his eyes always going back to Dol Guldur. It was either orcs were meeting there for their own filthy acts or something was gathering them there with a more important purpose. He had to give the king all the information he could find and he knew Thranduil was not going to be happy to cut off some of their business with Gondor. 

It was a few hours later when Tudor dared disturb his commander. He knocked softly but it seemed that Faervel was too concentrated on his work to hear him so in the end he let himself in.

"What is it? I'm busy." Was the immediate response from the white haired Sindarin elf.

"It's about the fortress..." as soon as he mentioned that wrecked place, Faervel sighed. "Nobody entered it after Mistril and I doubt anyone else will dare doing it now. Men have been talking, elves too! Something is lurking in the ruins of Dol Guldur." Tudor shuddered as the dark name rolled out his tongue.

"I know. This Necromancer that people have been talking about may be just an overzealous man. As long as it doesn't cross the borders of our kingdom everything is fine." Faervel answered glancing between his papers and the archer.

"You sound just like king Thranduil. He's busy drinking his fancy wine rather than going out there himself to check." The brown haired ellon replied coldly. Faervel understood his annoyance, he really did, but it wasn't in his power to order someone into such a dangerous place.

"He's not ready to admit to himself or to us that sickness has taken over Greenwood. Maybe it's better he is bothered by other problems. Let him enjoy this silence because it won't last for longer."

Tudor nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of someone who had fought and lived for a lot more centuries than him.

"But at some point we will need to send someone to check that side of the forest." The archer added cautiously. Faervel placed his papers down and looked straight into his eyes, making him stand straight and gulp.

"Pray to the Valar that we will never need to interfere directly."

As soon as Tudor left his superior's office, he found Miluinir pacing around with a worried look. They were close in age so it was easy talking to each other even if they were different from every other aspect.

"What's wrong?" Tudor asked placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Lord Gweluven wants me to accompany him to Lothlorien. It seems that they want to create some type of potion for those infected with orc-ish poison."

"That sounds like a break to me. You'll be able to escape the tension for a few days and be in Lady Galadriel's presence." Tudor said with a smile. He had only seen her once and it made him feel as safe as when he was with him family.

"Exactly. Lady Galadriel is there and I don't think they have such a big problem with orcs stepping on their land. It sounds absurd."

"You don't know what happens beyond our borders. Patrols have kept you and other civilians safe but that doesn't mean it is so. Orcs and goblins have been seen in Greenwood more and more often and I assure you their wit is stupidly big. You should arm yourself for travel." 

Miluinir frowned, looking even more worried and nervous than he was already.

Another person that had a lot on his mind was the king himself. Thranduil was not in his room as expected at that hour  but in what was now an empty and cold deposit. As soon as Mistril left, he transformed the small room in anything as far as it would not remind Legolas  of her. But it did. The values that Mistril inspired in his son were still very strong, especially in the art of war and disobedience. He was training hard every day and although he appreciated his bravery and work, he wished he wouldn't get any big ideas. Faervel didn't send anyone yet into Dol Guldur and Thranduil ordered him not to send any of his warriors outside the borders. Spiders were threatening the forest and nature was isolating the evil by suffocating itself. He knew many villagers left and went either to Esgaroth or into Rohan and Gondor. He was king and couldn't risk his people's lives, not when they were so few left. He had to protect his kingdom, even if that meant isolating them inside.

But that was not all he was thinking of. Ever since Mistril showed him her past, a thing he did not know was possible, he started to feel even more paranoid. There were so many questions about her and her connection to their past enemy and he was not ready to take responsibility for whatever was sickening his home. It was just like before when a curtain of darkness covered the whole world and many elves died back then because of it. He refused the theory that something just as bad could rise again. Unfortunately when Mistril let him inside her mind, he witnessed the murder of his father for a second time, even closer than before. 

"Father? What are you doing here?" Legolas asked, finally finding his father after searching through the halls.

"What is it Legolas?" Thranduil avoided giving a real answer.

"Faervel will most definitely send for scouts into the fortress. I want to go."

"No." That was exactly what Thranduil feared.

"But someone needs to go and almost everyone is afraid to even step near that patch of land." Legolas added, growing annoyed. "I want to see what is going on. I'm not a child anymore."

Thranduil sighed and turned to face his son. Indeed, Legolas had grown into an adult, a young warrior that any army would be honored to have. If only he wasn't so keen to go out into the world and search for adventure then Thranduil wouldn't have to add his son's safety on the list of troublesome responsabilities. Then, the king got a better idea.

"I have another task for you." He started, "You will be in charge of guarding Gweluven and Miluinir on their way to Lothlorien."

"Why?"

"Lord Celeborn had asked for assistance with a potion. I'm sure traveling for a few days will ease this eagerness to get into trouble."

"But I am of greater help here.Faervel is-"

"Faervel will go himself into the fortress. He is my most trusted commander and I assure you, even if you'd be here my orders will not be ignored. You will not enter Dol Guldur, Legolas. Not now, not ever while I am here."

Legolas glared at his father and scoffed loudly.

"You didn't have any problem sending an elleth that forgot everything about herself. I guess as long as they are not considered 'your' people then they are perfect to sacrifice." He spat out in anger before he left Thranduil alone.

* * *

Next day bright and early Mistril woke up at the smell of food. Breakfast in Lothlorien was taken on the balcony with the whole family, as she realized when she came out. 

"Good morning, Mistril. Please join us." Eloen smiled and pointed at the empty spot between her and her brother. "Oh right, you haven't met yet. Illion, this is our guest from Imladris. Mistril, this is my older brother." 

Illion only nodded his head before he returned to munching on an apple. As Mistril approached them he couldn't help but find her rather intimidating as a female elf. In his life he had only seen few female warriors compared to the number of elleths that resembled his sister's softness. But Mistril was a full fledged warrior even if she seemed like she hadn't fought in a while. 

"The colour of your hair is unusual." Illion commented when she sat down. Eloen threw him an annoyed look before she excused his rudeness. Mistril didn't seem to mind him, she actually looked like she was enjoying herself. 

"It was originally red. My whole family had long dark red hair."

"Quite an irony to how yours is short and orange. Such a change comes only when one has done something very bad." It was obvious he heard about her past or else he wouldn't have brought it up as he did. 

"I guess guards talk a lot to each other. What have you heard?" 

Eloen leaned back as she watched her guest and brother discuss about what Lord Celeborn told her to ignore. She could feel eyes watching, ears listening in and yet not urging her to interfere. 

"An elleth whose light flickers every so often. One whose darkness has filled her soul and forced her to fight against her kin. A survivor of the fallen city who has now the marks of a terrible time." Hearing him speak of the marks she rolled down her sleeves more, an action that he caught on quickly. 

"Anyway, what are your plans for today, Mistril? Would you like to take a walk, read in Lord Celeborn's library or-"

"I'd like to train, if possible. My archery needs all the practice it can get." She replied looking at Illion. "Can I borrow your bow?"

Illion raised an eyebrow, his whole demeanor expressing doubt and amusement. But he nodded nonetheless, quite curious what she could do. 

Well, realistically speaking the guard didn't have any expectations but Mistril was awful from her stance to the way she was using the wind in her disfavor.  He shook his head several times in the first ten minutes before he was joined by two other elves. 

"Is that the guest that came with the twins?" Haldir asked looking curiously at the hardworking elleth. "Lady Mistril, right?"

"Isn't she the one Lord Celeborn told us about? The one we should not question." Haldir's brother, Orophin, asked. "She looks like she's fading. The colour of her hair is only the beginning of a long and atrocious death." He added, his eyes softening as he watched Mistril shoot another arrow.

"She's getting better." Haldir pointed out seeing how she was now standing straighter and she was genuinely following the direction from where the wind was blowing.

"That's because she heard you." Elrohir said walking towards the group. "She followed your directions and she's improved her stance and focus." As he said that, Mistril shot an arrow close to the center of the target.

"She's done it before, hasn't she?" Haldir asked leaning on his right foot. "But obviously it isn't her main skill. I wonder how she acts with a sword in her hand. Have you ever seen her fight?"

Elrohir watched her train by herself but couldn't remember a moment when she actually fought against someone. He did hear Glorfindel talking about it but witnessing it closely was another thing.

"Why don't we check?" Illion asked drawing out his sword. Elrohir was not excited, not when he knew what position she was in, especially with her sword Deldhin.

Mistril listened to the Lorien elves carefully and she couldn't help wonder if she could spar and still keep herself in check. She fired another arrow before she walked and placed it on the ground. She heard Illion's footsteps and turned just in time to catch his blade with her bare hands. Illion's blue eyes brightened as he drew back and swayed his sword in order to scare her. Mistril watched him but didn't grab her sword, not that it was there anyway since she didn't plan on fighting soon.

"Should I lend you a sword as well?" he asked, a smirk threatening to appear.

Mistril raised an eyebrow and waited for him to lunge at her before she grabbed her daggers and stopped him, making an X so that she could block the mighty elvish sword. He pushed forcefully, hoping she would break but instead Mistril ducked and moved so that she was behind him. She didn't continue the fight but turned to where the rest of the elves were watching and threw one of the daggers at them. Lord Celeborn caught it easily and smiled as he noticed the hilt.

"My lord, what are you doing here?" Haldir asked surprised that she heard him coming.

"I need to speak to our guest. Illion, prepare for your guarding duty, as should you and your brother, Haldir." He addressed and they nodded in respect. His expression seemed quite the opposite of the one he had when Mistril first arrived; he was the lord of the land, he was strong and wise and he knew how to express his power. 

Elrohir smiled as she passed him and assured her it was nothing to be worried about. But Mistril remembered her last discussion with Lady Galadriel and that did not go as expected.


End file.
